Maintaining Hope
by Chereche
Summary: Part of the "Keeping Faith" verse. Blaine's graduated and gone ahead to University. Both he and Kurt must learn to navigate the year without each other, testing the strength of their relationship and love for each other.
1. The Last First Walk

Kurt breathed a deep breath as he cut the engine of his Navigator. This was it, his last first day of school. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Kurt leaned heavily back against his seat, closing his eyes. It was okay, he could do this. Kurt knew that he wasn't at risk for a panic attack - he had matured to the point now that he could accept and agree with the importance of his medication, and thus he had taken a mild acting pill that morning. Unless something monumental happened, he would be fine. This wasn't him being overwhelmed. This was just him dealing with the bittersweet realisation of the importance of this day.

Dalton was an oasis, and he certainly had enjoy his last year and a half at it, and was fairly certain that this year would be as great. Nevertheless, he knew that Dalton was also a respite from a reality that, after this year, he would be thrust back into. It was a nice break he supposed, absentmindedly reaching over to lower the radio's volume. Dalton, because of its policies and the general wonderful nature of its students, meant that Kurt, minus a hurdle or two (in the form of a now institutionalised Priscilla) had been a peaceful, if emotional venture. The people were all so kind to him, so facilitating, but Kurt knew that such kindness would not exist once he left this private school for the last time. What would happen to him then? Kurt shook his head roughly; now was not the time for such thoughts.

More than that, there was something even worse that threatened to depress him on this day. He was alone now. His boyfriend was currently on his way to an eight o clock lecture in New York, while he was stuck here for a next year. It would not be the worst time in the world. But still, he would not be with Blaine. Oh what he would have given to be born a year earlier.

Kurt huffed, ridding himself of all the thoughts. His arm jerked, as if laughing at his attempt, and Kurt rolled his eyes, even as he adjusted the strap, imprisoning it even closer against his torso. He smiled fondly then, his left hand fondly stroking down the sling that perfectly matched his uniform, save the silver "Blaine loves Kurt" embroided into the back side of it, visible only to Kurt when he wanted to see it. This had been a present for him. Blaine had given him the package on his last day in Ohio, asking him not to open it until this morning. How could he have known that Kurt would have needed just this reminder to help him through the day?

"I love you," Kurt whispered, his words matching the text message he had sent him that morning.

Well, there was nothing left to do, Kurt thought, finally exiting the car.

It was only as he headed up the path to the school that it hit him, and Kurt's steps faltered briefly. This was his first time doing this solitary. On that first day, mere weeks after he had been inflicted with his injury, it had been Finn who had walked him up this path, arm wrapped around him, talking encouragingly to him, even as he reminded him that he could change his mind at any time and be homeschooled. Kurt's lips twitched as he thought of the fact that, had he simply looked up at the building they had been approaching, he would have seen Blaine with his friends staring down at him. Blaine claimed that that had been the first moment he had recognised that Kurt was special and that he wanted him in his life. Upon reflection, Kurt would admit that that moment on the stairs when Blaine had saved him from a floor had been his "oh" moment.

Speaking of Blaine - he had met him here on his first day as a junior. This truly was the first time Kurt would be making this journey on his own, and, while he could appreciate the symbolism behind it, it made him feel that much more alone.

He and Blaine had rarely had actual classes together, but they had been together often enough, during breaks, lunchtime, after school. Not to mention the vacations they spent together because neither would have it any other way. All of that was gone now, and it was depressing. A heavy weight settled itself on Kurt's chest as he thought about it, and he had to forcibly repress the urge to start crying then and there. Blaine wasn't here; he was alone. But, as he reminded himself, he had shared more than enough tears after his boyfriend had left. He didn't need to turn into a blubbering mess here as well.

Besides, he comforted himself, it was not as if he was suddenly bereft of Blaine. He had the sling. The tie around his neck was Blaine's, as was the Warbler pin he wore. These were all things Blaine had gifted him with, as well as a bottle of the cologne he always wore that Kurt sprinkled on his pillow every night, simply to have the scent of him. Blaine's purpose had been clear - to give Kurt small but significant reminders to help him get through moments just like this. Blaine always thought ahead, he noted fondly, as, in more control now, he walked forward again.

He had returned the favour, gifting Blaine with his own cologne, his favourite scarf and a scrap book Fin had helped him put together for moments of loneliness Blaine would have. And, perhaps, the most important thing, was the pair of rings they had both pooled their money to buy. They were not the most expensive rings in the world, but they were beautiful enough for the purpose they served. Blaine's ring was on his finger all now. Kurt's because of Dalton's regulations, was on a chain around his neck. Promise rings. A sign of their love for each other. A promise that the distance between them now meant nothing. A promise that they were meant to be and would be reunited permanently at the end of the year. The ring was a continuous presence against Kurt's skin, and was, perhaps, the best reminder of them all.

He walked forward then, considerably more comforted. One year, he told himself, much less if he considered the fact that it was one academic year he was talking about. And, of course, there were the holidays that they were determined to spend together. Blaine had been the first one months ago to bridge the topic of Kurt's future after his own acceptance letters had started rolling in. He had, almost shyly, asked him if he would consider applying to New York schools to be with him. Kurt had not even hesitated when he said yes. He still was not completely certain of the educational path he would take, but at least now he had a location in mind - New York.

That was his goal, and he would study his butt off to achieve it. His boyfriend had been accepted into every single school he had applied to, and had received offers of scholarships to a few of them as well. He had, in the end, settled for his second choice, New York University, mostly out of sentimentality. Colombia was great and all, but his mother's family had a history of attending NYU, and so he had decided to follow the tradition. Kurt gaining admittance to the same university would be great as well, but Kurt knew that both he and Blaine would be content just to have him in the same city.

Kurt was jarred out of his thoughts abruptly as he heard his name called. Looking further up the path, he was surprised to see Jeff rising from the steps of the building waving excitedly at him.

"Kurt!" he called again, elongating his name.

Kurt, despite himself, laughed, and found himself hurrying forward to meet him.

It was a good surprise, he thought as he reached him, only now realising that he was not the only one in this situation. Jeff had lost someone to graduation as well, his best friend, Nick. It would be a strange year for him as well, although he supposed, Jeff was a bit more used to it. He and Nick had been friends since Jeff's first day at Dalton's kindergarten. For their entire school career, he had had to deal with the fact that Nick was a year ahead of him, and thus, always experienced that separation from him upon transitions to higher educational institutions.

"Hi," he said, as he reached him, smiling when Jeff hugged him enthusiastically.

He liked Jeff. They shared a few classes together, and they often hung out seeing that Blaine and Nick were good friends as well. The blond was like an energiser bunny on steroids, but there was just something so genuinely refreshing about him that people couldn't help but like him.

"So," Jeff said, pulling back before guiding them down to sit on the steps, "I was thinking."

"About?" Kurt asked, easing his strap off.

"Well, it's just you and me for the year, huh? I mean we basically got dumped by Nick and Blaine so they could have an epic bromance in NYU, right?"

Kurt laughed. Jeff's perspective was rather interesting, but the essence of his words were correct. Nick and Blaine were both enrolled into the same school, and at least for this year, had chosen to be roommates. Wes and David had opted for Columbia, but still they were all in relative distance to each other.

"Therefore," Jeff continued in a serious tone, "I thought that we could show them just how much they're missing out. I checked our schedule. We've got all classes together this year, so I propose we start our own epic bromance to beat all the bromances that have ever existed! Forget Niff and Klaine. We shall be Jurt! Or do you rather Keff?" he added when Kurt nearly doubled over laughing.

Once he had regained composure, and now, considerably more relaxed, Kurt agreed. "I'd like that," he admitted. "I was a bit worried about this year. We should definitely partner up."

"We'll make them regret not failing the year!" Jeff declared, fist pumping the air.

"We shall!" Kurt agreed, matching his volume and action.

Jeff dug into his pocket for a moment, pulling out his phone. Kurt could only watch as he quickly opened his camera, and wrapped an arm around Kurt, pulling him close. "Smile!" he bid.

Kurt did. The entire situation was so amusing it was not difficult to summon a genuine smile.

"Now let's send this to them," Jeff said, quickly suiting words. "That'll teach them," he said, with a dramatic sniff.

"It certainly will! Especially with that caption."

"Our bromance is better than yours," Jeff recited. "It's quite the caption. I should copyright it."

"Do that," Kurt bid.

They settled into continuous banter then, eventually moving inside when more and more people started arriving. By the time they had settled into their first class Kurt was pretty certain that he would be able to make it through this year with ease after all.


	2. Absence

Summary: A really short one. Kurt accomplishes something major and Blaine is not available. His thoughts in this moment turn dark.

Kurt could barely contain himself as he waited for his laptop to boot up. It was a little after seven now, and he had only just arrived home from physical therapy. He jingled his foot anxiously, willing it to load faster, until finally, with a clack of his keys, his computer unlocked itself. He loaded Skype, barely containing himself...only to find himself falling back heavily into his seat, disappointed.

Blaine was not there.

Once again.

He had not been online for the entire week.

All of Kurt's joy and excitement faded into nothing, and sadness settled into its place instead. He tried to shake off the feelings, taking a short cut to turn off the laptop before dropping heavily down onto his window seat. It wasn't Blaine's fault, he told himself morosely. It was midterms or him. Blain had, early in the previous week, outlined all the things he had due, and Kurt had found himself growing stressed on his behalf. He knew how much his boyfriend had to do, and he was proud of him for putting such dedication into it. It didn't change the fact though that that busy state left him with limited time for him, and, given the monumental nature of what Kurt had accomplished today, he felt it justified to feel sad and well, slightly hurt. In the beginning their Skype dates were a nightly affair, but it had steadily declined with time. Now, Kurt was lucky if Blaine managed to find the time on weekends for him anymore. He was just that busy and, once again, Kurt understood and did not fault him. Nevertheless, it was not a good time for him.

Jeff just wasn't the same as Blaine. And while he knew that Jeff could as easily celebrate his latest milestone with him, what Kurt really wanted to hear was "I'm proud of you poppet," in that warm, all embracing tone that would in an instant make all the frustration and pain Kurt had gone through to accomplish it worthwhile.

The longer he sat there, wallowing in his thoughts, the darker Kurt's thoughts turned. He could not help but envision Blaine now, seated in one of those huge libraries that Kurt would probably spend weeks getting lost in, studying all kinds of complicated theories whose names Kurt would probably not even be able to say correctly. Would Blaine even want him by the end of the semester, he wondered. After all, he was in New York and so exposed to everything that he was bound to eventually start seeing Kurt as inadequate. Was it that he was humouring him even now? What if his accomplishments now seemed childish and almost insignificant to his older, and now probably, considerably more mature boyfriend. Had that congratulatory text two weeks ago after the Warblers had successfully won Sectionals been sincere, or just a slightly condescending, let me humour him sort of message?

Maybe this near silence except for the occasional text was Blaine's way of slowly backing away from him?

Kurt didn't even realise when the first tear fell, but soon enough he was curling himself into a small ball and sobbing, glad that he was home alone so that there would be no one to hear his pain being vocalised. He was all alone. He wasn't even sure Blaine wanted him anymore. What would he do if he had to live his life without Blaine?

Managing to close his hand into a fist no longer seemed like an important thing.


	3. The New Council

Summary: So it seems like I've settled into a weekend update routine. Hopefully I can stick to it ^_^.

I just want to point out as well that, unless indicated otherwise, these chapters are basically one shot situations occurring over the course of Kurt's senior year and Blaine's uni freshman year. Therefore the chapters may end up not actually being chronological time wise. There will consistently be one plot line underscoring each chapter though - each (or sometimes both boys) will be navigating their new lives without each other's constant presence, trying to find and discover themselves and their capabilities along the way, as long as the journey of their relationship.

* * *

Kurt squirmed uncomfortably on the seat he was, taking in the view around him. It was so strange; the room he had come to love and usually felt so at home in was now so alien to him from this angle. "I still don't think I should be here," Kurt admitted, shooting a longing glance at his couch, the one he had spent the majority of his time in this room curled comfortably upon.

"You'll get used to it," Trent told him softly, although Kurt could discern an edge of discomfort in his voice as well, " _We'll_ get used to this."

"You guys can, maybe," Kurt said, briefly looking towards the cabinet where Jeff was studiously digging through books on the shelf, searching for who knows what. "I don't at all think I deserve this. There's people here so much longer than me."

"Stop complaining Kurtsey," Jeff called out from his spot, "none of us particularly want to be this year's Council, but since we are we'll make it the perfect opportunity for revenge."

"Revenge?" Trent inquired carefully.

Kurt chuckled in spite of himself. "Jeff is still determined to make Nick, and by extension all of the old Warblers for abandoning him."

" _Us_ , Kurtsey," Jeff corrected, briefly pulling his head out of the cabinet to shoot him a mild glare. "Blaine left you to suffer here to, remember. We'll add you to our club Trent," he added after a moment, "Andrew's your step cousin twice removed, or something like that right? He's left you too."

"He's right here in Westerville though," Trent corrected. "He deferred his acceptance to MIT for a year because of his mom's diagnosis…we sang for her in July…remember?"

"He's not listening anymore," Kurt pointed out, "and there's no use arguing against him. You're officially part of our yet to be named club."

"Whose purpose is?"

"Well…that depends on Jeff's mood," Kurt admitted. "Currently our purpose appears to be to ensure that the Warblers at least reach Nationals. That'd be a one-up to what we managed last year and will make Nick and everyone else regret not still being a part of this to share in the victory."

"That doesn't really make sense."

"Shh," Kurt bid, "whatever keeps Jeffery happy."

"We'll have to find a way to make Trent's name rhyme Kurtsey," Jeff said, finally returning to the Council table with a thick tome in his hands. "Jeffery, Kurtsey, Trentsey? Nah, that doesn't really work. We'll think of something."

"Anyway," Kurt said, gently staring the conversation to its original thread, "Despite what Mr. Kentwood has said, I'm not really sure it's right for me to be on the Council."

"There's three seniors left on the team, and you're one of them," Trent deadpanned, "therefore, you are Council member. It's just one of those traditions that we can't really seem to get rid of."

"Wes was on the council since his junior year wasn't he?"

"There were only two seniors," Trent explained, "and there's always three. He was the most responsible at the time so they put him on it and once the other two graduated, he sort of just became the head with Thad and David being selected. Usually there's an election, but Andrew and Nick weren't really interested and Blaine thought that him being both lead singer and a councilman would be a conflict of interest although we never really saw it that way."

"Oh."

"Besides," Jeff added, flipping through the tome, "technically you're the most experienced of the three of us. You spent a year and some on McKinley's team. You've only actually been a member for nine months here, but you've spent nearly a year just here with us. Plus, being Blaine's boyfriend often made you privy to the little details we regular folks never really saw. Experience wise, you're the best, and I think you'll also bring a bit of innovation to us since you're not so thoroughly bred in tradition. You may just be what we need to break ourselves out of the box."

Kurt was silent for a long moment, taking that in. "You really think I can do this?"

"You can," Trent confirmed with a soft side.

"Can I at least not sit in the middle?" Kurt asked after a moment when his flush at the trust they were placing in him faded.

"Nope," Jeff declared, drawing out the "p". "That was Wes' seat. You can enjoy filling those shoes yourself."

"Jeff!"

"Yes Chief Warbler?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Okay Kurtsey."

"Don't call me that either."

"It's one or the other."

"Kurtsey it is."

"Thought so."

"You guys are ridiculous," Trent grumbled.

"You'll soon get used to it," Jeff told him.

"What are you looking for, anyway?" Kurt inquired, nodding Jeff's side.

"For the traitors' message to us."

"Traitors?" Trent repeated weakly.

"The former Council," Kurt explained. It was Jeff's latest name for their friends who had gone ahead to university.

"Wes called me this morning," Jeff said, "told me that they left a message in here somewhere for the new council. I'm trying to find it."

"Let us know when you do," Kurt told him, not bothering to point out that this meeting was supposed to be about them figuring out how to chart the way forward for the group. He had quickly realised in the first three weeks of the school year that Jeff had a singlemindedness to him that sometimes reminded him of Brittany. If his mind was set upon something, there was nothing to distract him from it.

"Mmhmm."

"Mr. Kentwood told me that the National Accapella Competition is running again this year. Maybe we can consider competing for that?"

"I think Blaine mentioned that to me once. The Warblers won it a few years back right? During what would have been his freshman year here?"

"They did," Trent confirmed. "The contest was cancelled since then, I can't remember why and when Blaine joined he convinced us that we should give a go at Show Choir competitions instead. But if our actually genre competition is back, maybe we should just re-focus there?"

"Show Choir or nothing," Jeff declared looking up briefly. "We'll do the both if we have to, but the traitors must pay."

"That's actually a good idea" Kurt stated. "As long as the competition schedules don't conflict we can maybe compete in both?"

"It'd be tough, but I don't see why not," Trent agreed.

Kurt was thoughtful for a moment. "How dedicated are the Warblers to accapella singing though?"

"Why are you asking?"

Kurt nipped at his lip, selecting his words carefully. "I know that historically the Warblers are an accapella group. But, does that hold true steadfast? We used music in last year's Christmas concert."

"Are you suggesting that we integrate music into our routines?" Trent asked, slightly incredulous.

"For the Show Choir contest yes," Kurt responded. "We'll never reach pass Regionals if we don't. I told Blaine that back in March. I knew from the get go that we wouldn't beat New Directions, not with relying on the regular style of performances. It's just not glee enough. Blaine didn't think anyone would truly go for moving away from the tradition, but if we enter two competitions…one that strictly caters to what this group holds as tradition, we can relax those rules for the second one? It'd definitely give us the edge we need."

Trent was silent for long moments. "That's a big change you're talking about Kurt."

"I know," he acknowledge.

"I think I like it though," Trent told him, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. "Actually, I love it. The Warblers are the school's most popular group in school, but outside of it? You may be right."

"We should discuss that with everyone first though," Jeff spoke up, "that shouldn't be a decision we three make on our own."

"We can also ask them what changes they would like to see," Trent added, "I know Phillip was clamouring last year for some more modern dance moves."

"We also need to start recruiting new members," Kurt added. "We're lucky we're not below competition requirements, but our range is now a lot more limited. The group is down to two tenors and they're both on the lower end of the register anyway. Andrew was our best bass singer. Our singing range will be unbalanced unless we rectify that. We'll also need to work on singling out a new lead."

"Or leads," Trent added, "it'd make the transition easier next year if we have a second lead who is not a senior."

"Second lead?"

"Well you're the first," Jeff said nonchalantly.

"When did we decide that?"

"Blaine decided that when he made you his permanent duet partner," Jeff told him. "Another tradition."

"What?"

Trent grinned apologetically at him. "He's right. If the lead singer's in his final year, its tradition for him to sort of take a younger member under his wing. Sometimes he alternates leads with him if their vocals are too similar, but if they're complementary they become partners. Once the lead graduates, the mantle is passed over. The former happened to Blaine, and the latter's happened to you."

"But what about the conflict of interest you mentioned earlier," Kurt squeaked out, paling.

"Kurtsey, you're our counter-tenor. Unless we miraculously get a second one, you'd already be taking on special roles in the majority of our songs. We're just making it official for this year."

"You don't have to perform every time," Trent hurried to assure him, "Lead singer for us isn't truly literal although it may have seemed that way with Blaine. You can just take on a mentorship role and distribute the songs to others if you please. But if there's solo performances, you'll be the default choice."

"I'd suggest taking a sophomore or a junior," Jeff advised. "A freshman's voice is still too prone to change."

"Phillip maybe then," Kurt murmured, even as he reminded himself to send a very threatening message to his boyfriend at the end of the meeting, "he's got a lot of potential and he does stand out a lot."

"He's well respected as well," Trent added, "good choice."

"We should get costumes," Jeff piped up, "this uniform idea reeks too much of Wes."

"Sounds good," the two remaining councilmen agreed.

"So," Trent said, "we've tentatively decided upon both competitions, adding music and modern dancing and costuming. We've confirmed Kurt as the lead singer and Phillip will be the second. That's agreed upon?"

"Reluctantly so," Kurt said. I'm still not one hundred percent sure why you're trusting me with all this responsibility. I'm the one armed kid in two forms of therapy."

"Don't say that," Jeff ordered sharply, and for the first time in a long while, Kurt saw dead seriousness in his eyes when he set them on him.

"It's true though," Kurt muttered.

"It isn't," Trent assured him. "We don't see you for what you aren't capable of doing Kurt, even if you see yourself like that. We're trusting you with all these things because we know you can do it. And it's not like you're going to do this on your own. We'll all be right here for you along the way."

"Even if you do that weird hand jive thing."

Kurt chuckled at that.

"We're serious, you know," Trent said after a moment, his voice taking on a slightly deeper tone. "You're family Kurt. We'll look out for you the same way you'd look out for us. I mean…I know it's especially not easy on you. You and Blaine were kind of inseparable and you were each other's driving force. But, until you're back with him in New York, we're going to look after you okay?"

Kurt swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat, "I'll say okay only if that extends to this one of questionable sanity here," he half-joked, "he's missing Nick something fierce."

"Yeah, we'll look out for each other this next year, and try to carry on the legacy that's been left for us further. We'll make all those past Warblers proud."

"I found the message!" Jeff said excitedly and pushed the book to the centre of the table.

They all bent down over it, looking at the elegant scrawls beneath the picture of the last council taken the day before graduation.

"To the council to come," Kurt read, recognising Wes' writing, "our stories have been told, but yours are just beginning."

"The rest is still unwritten," Trent read. "Only Thad would quote Natasha Bendingfield."

"David's seems the most practical," Jeff stated, "The only true failure is failing to try."

"Courage," Kurt recited, reaching out to finger the single word. He didn't even need a second to recognise who had written that.

"It's like they knew," Trent said.

"Knew?"

"That we would change things," he elaborated. "Why else would they have said this?"

"They knew we would be the new council," Jeff remarked, "and they knew us enough to know that we would never try to mimic what they did because we'd only fail. They knew we would want to take a different path…"

"And they're giving us their blessing to do so," Kurt finished.

"We can't let them down," Trent declared momentarily, looking at them with new fervour in his eyes. "No matter what happens this year guys, we have got to do our best. To do anything else would be an insult to them."

"We will," Kurt seconded, squashing down all the insecurities that were lingering for what he was now expected to do. "Courage". That word had become his and Blaine's mantra; for him to write it in that book was a sign and a reminder to him, that he could not give up, that he should not give up. "We'll make them proud."

"We'll make ourselves proud."

"And hopefully, this time next year there'll be a new council sitting hear reading our words to them."

"We'll make the Warblers stronger than ever, and we're going to bring home both of those championships!" Jeff declared placing his palm over the words.

"We'll pass on the spirit of family to the younger ones," Trent added, his larger hand moving over Jeff's and easily dwarfing it, "the Warblers will be a sanctuary."

"We'll do this," Kurt stated, his voice firm as his hand rested on Trent's. "We'll do it all, for them, for us, and for the ones to come. The mantle has been passed on to us, and we will do it all."

"Warblers on three," Jeff said, "One. Two…"

"THREE!" They shouted in unison, lifting their hands in the air.

They had made their vow, and would now do their damnest to fulfil it.


	4. Virgin Matters

By the end of the day, Kurt finally, fully realised the truth behind the saying "Curiosity killed the cat". He also learnt that it was better to not aggravate his older brother if he wasn't prepared to deal with the consequences and that his parents really had a quite liberal view towards teenage sex as long as it did not relate to him and he truly was not sure how he felt about that fact hours later. Regardless, Kurt would have been quite content to go through life without knowing about these particular things, and, if he knew that one simple question on his spark would have paved the way for all those revelations, he certainly would have just held his peace.

He should have left well enough alone when Finn had come home a little after midnight Friday night with the stupidest of grins on his face and actually whistling. He should not have bothered to inquire after Rachel seeing that she was unusually quiet (she usually blasted up his phone with messages immediately after Finn left her after their dates), the result of which caused Finn's already ridiculously large grin to widen further. He should have just chalked it all up to a blip in the universe and resumed his weekly movie-Skype date with Blaine. But he didn't, and so, when the next morning, Finn still sported that grin, he felt almost compelled to ask "What are you so cheerful about?"

Finn didn't answer him immediately. Instead, he continued to fix himself an oversized bowl of cereal and milk before plopping it down on the table, adding a glass of orange juice to the mix before he finally sat himself.

"What are you doing?" he inquired, his eyes roving over the pile of books, pens, pencils and laptop Kurt had scattered over half of the table.

"History project, Geography essay and Literature notes," he answered, "but don't distract me. What's got you so cheerful?"

"My date with Rachel was quite…excellent," he told him after swallowing.

Kurt tilted his head slightly. "What's so different about that? You guys are a lot better than that travesty of a relationship you tried to have last year. She hasn't complained about you in forever, occasional questionable clothing choices aside."

"It was really _really_ good Kurt."

"What did you do?" Kurt asked suspiciously. Rachel still hadn't answered his text passed a series of embarrassed face emojis, something in itself quite something. "You guys were just going for the whole dinner and movie routine. What's so special about that?"

"We _were_ going to do that," Finn corrected, "until her dads decided to have an impromptu weekend getaway. After that we just ordered in and spent the evening together."

"Well she must not have forced you to watch her recently acquired musicals if you're so happy," he mused, reaching over to snag and take a mouthful of Finn's juice, sticking out his tongue at his doleful expression.

"We didn't reach too far into the first one," he answered, refilling his glass, "we got distracted."

"What on earth would distract Rachel from a musical?"

Finn shrugged, shooting him a faintly amused look. "I'm still hungry," he declared, rising and heading towards the cabinets. "You've eaten?"

"I had a fruit salad."

"Glorified rabbit food," Finn sniffed, pulling down a pack of pancake mix.

"At least put raisins in them."

"As long as you mean raisins of the chocolate chip variety," he returned.

Kurt rolled his eyes, but did not complain, using the time it took him to make brunch to add a good few notes to the chapter he had been reading before his arrival. He had pretty much decided to end the conversation then, pretty certain he could wrangle the truth out of Rachel later, except, looking up in search of a purple highlighter, he realised that Finn was actually shimmying around the counter.

"You're not telling me something!" he snapped, annoyed.

Finn paused before giving him a sheepish look. "Sorry little brother," he rumbled, trusting the pancakes not to burn in the time it took him to come across the room and wrap his arms around Kurt's shoulders, squeezing him gently. "You probably think I'm being mean to you."

"Terribly," Kurt sniffed.

Finn chuckled, before kissing the top of his head and returning to the stove.

You need a shower," Kurt added, "you smell…weird."

And it was true. Kurt was quite accustomed to dealing with Finn in all his states by now from freshly showered to his sweaty, post-game messiness and everything in between. But this smell was different in a subtle way he just couldn't place and he wasn't too sure he liked it.

"Sorry lil dude," he apologised, even as he expertly flipped a pancake in the air, "I went straight to bed last night and it's not like I have a set of clothes at Rachel's so-"

"What did you need clothes for?" he asked, before finally, a few seconds after the question passed his lips, his rusty mind finally made the connection between all those subtle clues that had indeed been right in front of him.

"Ewwwwwww!" Kurt screeched, "You hugged me! You got all your sex-germs on me!"

Finn's eyes widened for a moment at Kurt's outburst before he laughed, deep and hard as Kurt starting tugging at the shirt he wore.

"You cannot be serious Kurt," he snorted as he successfully shrugged it off before tossing it to the floor in disgust.

"You kissed me. I have to wash my hair now!"

"Kurt."

"I don't know where your lips have been," he added with a profound glare.

"Oh come on," Finn said in exasperation when Kurt made to rise. "You've cuddled up to me loads of time after Blaine left over the past few holidays. How is this so different?"

Kurt squeaked, an embarrassed sound before he shot the patented glare that Finn had come to love seeing on him after so long.

"I certainly have not, and even if I had had…relations with Blaine do you think I wouldn't have showered after?!"

"Relations?" Finn repeated, "is that what you Dalton boys call it? And wait, _what_? Even if you had…? You and Blaine…you mean…you can't be serious?!"

"About what?" he muttered, "and don't let my pancakes burn."

"Your pancakes are they?" Finn stated with a raised eye brow. "And dude, are you really still a virgin?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he retorted, taking up his discarded shirt tentatively before walking to the adjacent laundry room. "We're not all horn dogs you know."

"But you guys have been together forever, dude."

"So?"

"Seriously, you can't expect me to believe that you guys haven't-"

"I hope you treated Rachel right," Kurt interrupted smoothly, "and were kind and gentle or else I'm going to have to eliminate you on principle."

"There were no complaints last night," Finn said with a shrug, bringing over twin stacks of pancakes before pretending to ignore Kurt as he moved nearly half of his own pile onto the other plate. "And it's not like it was planned or anything you know. It just happened."

Kurt eyed him for a long moment. "Unplanned with protection right?"

"Her period ended last week. We're in the clear."

"Finn!" Kurt gasped, and this time it was out of shock, "you really didn't use a condom?"

"I told you, we didn't plan it. I don't walk around with those you know."

"Are you crazy?" Kurt hissed, waving his fork at him, "always use a condom! I mean, yeah it's Rachel, so we know you're safe but still…did you even stop to consider STDs and STIs? Do you want it to rotten off?"

"Seriously dude, what are they teaching you…?"

"To not think with the downstairs brain for one."

"You sound like that sex ed tape they made us watch."

"This isn't a joking matter Finnegan."

"It's rather funny for me."

"I'll tell dad! I'm sure he's been waiting to unleash 'the talk' on you anyway."

"Maybe you should get it first. Only one of us is scarlet right now, little bro and newsflash, it isn't me."

"Finnegan-"

"What's Finn teasing you about this time Kurt?" Carole interrupted walking in the room with an armful of groceries. They had been so engrossed in their conversation they had not even heard her arrival.

"Finn had sex without protection," Kurt blurted out. "You should ground him!"

Carole blinked before she placed the bags on the counter. "What now?"

"Finn did the deed with Rachel," he repeated.

"Burt I need you," Carole called out, shaking her head.

"What for?" he called back, even as he entered the room.

"To talk sense into one or both of our sons."

"Oh?"

"Finn apparently had a _great_ night without the necessary precautions and Kurt looks like he is about to pass out from said information."

"Mom," Finn whined.

Burt dropped his own load before looking from one boy to the next searchingly for a moment. "Well that one's still a virgin," he declared pointing in Kurt's direction and laughing briefly at his outraged shriek. "So that leaves you," he concluded. "Finn, unprotected sex is a pretty thing to do son, especially if you two aren't committed for the long term. Unless Rachel's on birth control you really should wrap mini you up. Wait, do I need to get you condoms?"

"Why are you encouraging him," Kurt protested, "Ground him for life!"

"We've got one out of two still a virgin," Burt shrugged, "that's more than most families can boast, especially with two sons."

"Daddy!"

"I can give you the talk later if you want bud," Burt said placating, reaching over to steal a pancake, "but given that Blaine isn't due back for at least a month, there's no real rush to it, huh?"

"Burt is taking you for condoms later, Finn," Carole stated, her voice firm, "and Rachel better be here for dinner next week."

"Mom!"

"If you two are at that stage I think a reintroduction is in order."

"Yes ma'am," Finn sighed, knowing that it was a battle firmly lost.

Kurt would have been quite happy to have let the entire matter end right there, especially since Finn was not out for revenge after Carole's proclamation. Unfortunately, Kurt had not catered for the fact that a locked door would not at all be a hindrance for his older revenge seeking brother. If he had, he would have been a little more suspicious of the unexpected but wholly welcomed call from his boyfriend in the middle of that afternoon.

"Blaine!" he said jovially, the second he answered the call.

"Hello poppet," Blaine answered him warmly, "why is Finn questioning my manhood?"

It took Kurt a moment to understand what his boyfriend was saying, but when he did, he ground out, "I will kill him."

His statement lost most of its heat though when Blaine laughed, his rich tone warming his heart despite his annoyance.

"And what is going on in the Hummel house today?"

Kurt heard the sound of shuffling over the phone, and he could imagine Blaine making himself comfortable for what was promising to be an amusing tale.

"Rachel and Finn had sex last night," Kurt explained.

"Oh…interesting I suppose."

"He hugged me without showering!"

"Gross," Blaine agreed in response to his affronted tone, "have you burnt your clothes?"

"Carole is cleaning it."

"What happened next?"

"He-" Kurt paused briefly, searching for the right words. "He said I was over-reacting because it wasn't as if I never came to cuddle with him after you leave sometimes."

"Ooooh," Blaine said knowing. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault. We're just not horn-dogs like them. We don't need to hump like bunnies to pass the time."

"His words?" Blaine inquired, and to Kurt it seemed as if he was biting his lip to stave off laughter.

"They might as well have been," he grumbled. "He didn't believe me at first. But that wasn't the worst part Blaine! Carole and Dad came in then and they sided with him, Blaine. I apparently look like an un-besmirched virgin and it is all your fault."

"Forgive me for not sullying your virtue poppet."

"You're teasing me too!" Kurt whined.

"You are too cute you know," Blaine said fondly, "I imagine you're quite red right now."

"Blaine!"

"And so because you embarrassed Finn with your parents, he is trying to avenge himself through me?"

"Basically," Kurt answered softly. "This is a conversation I really do not want to have."

"But is it something we need to talk about?" Blaine asked him seriously. "The sex part I mean?"

His no nonsense tone sobered Kurt a bit, and made him actually consider. "No we don't," he said finally, "at least I don't think we need to?"

"Poppet, has Finn now filled your head with a billion little insecurities that are going to keep you up tonight?"

"Maybe," Kurt admitted, not even bothered by the slightly patronising tone Blaine's voice had taken. Blaine wasn't being mean; he was just trying to illicit a truthful response from him.

"Then we need to talk about it," Blaine answered simply.

"I don't want to?"

"Nice try, Kurt. Now, what's on your mind?"

"You're the one who started this conversation, you lead it."

Kurt heard Blaine sigh, and, he knew that were he here in person, or they were having this conversation on Skype, Blaine would be shooting him a mildly reproachful look right about now.

"Sorry," he muttered, "I shouldn't cup an attitude."

"Thank you," he responded easily, "but I understand. You're uncomfortable and lashing out and possibly considering how you're going to get Finn back for putting you in this position in the first place."

"Exactly."

"Now, I'm not exactly sure what I need to say to you, I mean, we've never actually had a deep conversation about sex. I think we both just understood that we weren't ready for that step."

"I wasn't ready," Kurt corrected. "I'm pretty sure you wanted to at some point."

"Perhaps," Blaine agreed, and Kurt knew that he was tapping his chin thoughtfully. "That afternoon at the pool seems most memorable. You were not really inspiring pure thoughts in that vest."

"But you didn't act upon it," Kurt said, ignoring the low edge that coloured Blaine's voice.

"Because you weren't ready. And I'm not really sure I was one hundred percent ready then either. Horny probably, but ready to take that step with you? I'm not sure. I don't really want our first time to be some sort of rushed, unprepared venture, you know? I want it to be more than that."

"Finn seems to think that that's weird."

"We're never going to be that normal couple," Blaine told him, "and people are going to find some of the things we do pretty weird. But that doesn't bother me in the slightest. Sex maybe the benchmark of progress in some relationships, but I'm in no real rush to experience it. And given your behaviour in this conversation, neither are you. So, I think it's for the best if we continue to take things at our own pace and see where that eventually gets us."

"You're going to be celibate for a long while then," Kurt whispered eventually.

"And that's why porn and masturbation exist," he quipped..

"Blaine!"

His only response was a deep laugh. "You're blushing aren't you?"

"Y-yes!"

"Aww," he cooed. "You've been teased tremendously today it seems."

"And no one is in the least sympathetic about that fact."

"I'll make it up to you," Blaine promised. "I'll sing to you until you fall asleep tonight."

"That sounds great," Kurt admitted, before snuggling down into his pillow.

The pair's conversation drifted into lighter topics for a while before, with a reluctant tone, "I should probably get going on Kurt. I told Nick I would go to the library with him at four."

"Okay," Kurt agreed, "but you'll call me later?"

"As always," he agreed. "Are you a bit more reassured now though?"

"Yes. Thanks Blaine. It's not going to spare Finn from my vengeance though."

"You may do with him as you please," Blaine said with a chuckle. "You'll have to tell me your diabolical plan later.

"As soon as I've hatched it, I will."

"I love you poppet. I'll talk to you later."

"I love you too Blaine," Kurt returned sincerely before disconnecting the call.


	5. Talks with Cooper

Blaine wasn't too sure about this. But, as Nick successfully argued, they had been NYU students for over a month now and had yet to grace any place non-academic with their presence. His solution? A trip to one of the more inclusive clubs off campus that Nick had discovered through numerous inquiries. Blaine personally did not see the appeal of it. Crowded, dimly lit areas full of drunk people writhing to horrible music did not really seem like a good night to him. He would much rather to curl up with a book for leisure reading - perhaps even call up Kurt for a conversation that would last long into the night. Except...Kurt wasn't home. He and Finn had gone off for a night of Hudson-Hummel revelry (probably just Finn shoving the unhealthiest of foods down Kurt's throat with his boyfriend demanding ice-cream and cheese cake as compensation). A night on his own did not seem too fun anymore without the possibility of having Kurt's melodious voice to keep him company. And so he agreed.

Which was why Blaine found himself eyeing his wardrobe critically, wondering what of his clothes could pass as club wear. It wasn't as if he had packed with the intentions of partying, and what he preferred as his usual wear probably would not fit in. With a sigh, Blaine reached into _that_ part of his wardrobe, the part of it stocked with clothes his mother and brother insisted on sending to him ever so often. Cooper thankfully had actually come through, and soon enough, Blaine was dressed in tight, rocker-ish looking pants with a close fitting shirt that even he would admit did wonders at showing off the muscles that had gotten even bigger now that he had more time to devote to the gym.

Sending off a quick selfie to Kurt, he grabbed his keys and wallet before heading out to meet Nick. He truly hoped that Nick had had the foresight to choose a place that would let them in without the need of fake IDs, although he didn't doubt that his friend knew where to acquire them if they truly needed it. He was perfectly fine with passing his time with water and soda, but Nick had always been the more adventurous sort.

His fears thankfully proved unfounded though, and soon enough he found himself in a surprisingly decent club that had let them in without too much hassle, both simply given bands to indicate that they should not be fed alcohol. Blaine, soon after had been issued a second, rainbow coloured band due to some whispering to a worker on Nick's part, something his friend guaranteed would stop unnecessary flirting on the part of girls towards him.

Blaine was grateful for it. After the first two or so weeks of politely rebuffing attention from girls, he was quickly growing tired of it. Thankfully he had only had to gently wave off one guy, who seemed disproportionately perplexed at the fact that Blaine was eighteen, gay and also in a committed relationship. Even now Blaine couldn't help but wonder if it really was that strange of a phenomenon.

They hadn't been in the club for more than half an hour before Blaine lost sight of Nick. Sighing, he resisted the urge to go look for him. Nick was a big boy after all, he reminded himself, working his way through the crowded dance floor to the bar area. More than that, this club seemed classy enough that he didn't think he would end up finding Nick in a bathroom trying to get stoned with a new 'friend' for the first time. And so, securing a tall glass of iced tea in his hand, Blaine settled in a relatively obstructed part near to the bar and perused the scene.

He would admit that he was increasingly finding the club fascinating. The room reflected such a level of diversity and freedom that a smile quickly worked its way onto Blaine's lips. It was just so characteristic of New York, he thought. He loved it.

Dalton had been an environment filled of acceptance, but to see that same freedom expanded here, to watch a man grind his way down another man's body, to watch two women French kissing with abandon while a little way from them a next woman was sandwiched between a man and a woman was so enlightening to him. On the spot Blaine decided that he would have to bring Kurt here next year; he would be as intrigued by it as he was currently.

Time passed as Blaine people watched. Slowly he made his way through one drink, and was half way through a second when his vision was abruptly cut off by a body that moved into his line of vision. Blaine swallowed the mouthful of tea he had in his mouth even as his eyes slowly trailed upwards up the torso standing before him up to the face of the standing in front of him. His chest was clad in a sleeveless shirt tighter than the one Blaine wore could ever hope to be. The shirt was also unbuttoned low enough so that a smattering of gently curling hair peeked forth tantalisingly. A series of corded and beaded chains were slung around a medium sized neck. They were nice, he noted, slightly hippie in a still modern way. The appeal of it though paled in comparison to the sheer beauty of the man whose gaze he finally met.

Blaine swallowed again, but for an entirely different reason this time. The man was gorgeous. His hair was styled in a punkish way, short strands sticking up every which way. He was tanned, although Blaine was pretty certain it was not natural like his own olive toned skin. Even his eyebrows, thick and sculpted as they were added a dimension to his face, a perfect frame for the kohl lined grey eyes that was staring down at him with equal fascination. Suddenly Blaine understood what the term "sex god" meant, because that was the only title that seemed worthy of the person before him.

"I've been watching you," the man said, and god, even above the noise of the music, his voice sounded perfect. "Dance with me," he asked, no _ordered_ , because he did not wait for a response.

He reached out, his long, muscular arms pulling Blaine to his feet before setting his drink aside. Blaine was helpless to disobey as the man backed them slowly into the crowd, his hands pulling him closer until Blaine was flush against him, and his body, too used to falling into rhythm quickly did so, moving in tandem with him to the beat of the music.

"Good boy," he whispered, his lips briefly ghosting against his ear before his hands moved again, pulling Blaine's upwards and around his neck before his own larger hands settled on Blaine's hips, guiding him as he pleased.

Blaine quickly lost himself to the music. It and the warm headiness of the hard, taller frame around him took Blaine to a place where he seemingly devolved, his mind and reasoning slowly being replaced with the urge to just feel, to recognise that the chest his hands were now running down was so hard and firm and perfect, that the hands gently dancing up and down his back, occasionally dipping lower felt so good, that his scent, a slightly musky one that Blaine had never smelt before but could quickly grow to love so intoxicating that he would not protest if he had to spend the rest of his life inhaling that wonderfully alluring smell.

Blaine was not sure when all those observations translated into a quickly growing arousal that had his breath quickening as time passed and him starting to nip on his lip to restrain sounds every time the man grinded them closer together or allowed his hands to slip. It was so good; it felt so good, and when his head dipped and the man followed the movement, his lips pressing against the skin of his neck briefly before he licked a wet, warm stripe straight up it, Blaine moaned, a deep and needy sound that also, in that moment brought him sharply back to himself.

He stiffened and straightened, his aroused eyes seeking out and meeting steel grey eyes that in no way resembled the gently welcoming blue gaze of his boyfriend. Those eyes reflected a passion that he wasn't quite certain Kurt had experienced as yet - not that the feelings coursing through him was anything but alien if he were honest.

"Something wrong?" the man inquired, and god was his low, husky tone arousing.

Blaine nodded though, iciness quickly dousing the flames within him. "You aren't Kurt," he said simply, and though it was painfully hard to do so, he pulled back and walked away.

Blaine was never more grateful for the fact that his family owned real estate in New York. He did not know what he would have done if he had had to go back to the dormitories where Nick would eventually return to. And so, he went to one of his homes away from homes, granted access to the building by the man at the front desk who thankfully recognised him since he did not have his card key on him and he would rather not have had to call his mother and explain why he abruptly wanted to access to the apartment she had wanted him to live in from the start.

His finger hesitated though as it hovered over the elevator pad. His own probably stale smelling apartment did not seem particularly appealing to him now. He didn't want to have to air it out and probably dig out sheets and all the other trimmings as he couldn't recall if his mother had bothered to continue house-keeping that floor since he had made it abundantly clear that he really didn't plan on using the apartment until his second year (coincidently of course when Kurt would also be in New York).

And so, he settled for keying into Cooper's apartment. His, at least, would be in a better state, and his brother would not care in the least if he crashed in his place for the night. Walking out of the elevator directly into Cooper's living room area, Blaine flicked on the light, and in doing so, let that face of politeness and neutrality that he had been carefully sporting since he had left the club fall.

He sighed, suddenly exhausted as he flopped down onto the oversized, plush couch, curling into himself and letting waves of disgust flood through him. Just what exactly had he done? He twisted, grimacing as he recalled the feelings of lust that had cascaded through his veins. God, that man had been beautiful, hot, and sexy in every way possible, and he hated himself for allowing that sex-god to pull him out onto the dance floor in the first place. If that had not happened...

Blaine's fist slapped down onto the couch in self-disgust as he turned onto his back, his hand coming up to shield his eyes from the fluorescent lights illuminating the room as he thought about it all, and the grim realisation that while Kurt and Finn had been on an innocent brotherly adventure, he had been rubbing and grinding against a stranger, destroying in that one act, Kurt's trust in him.

That last thought struck him deeply, and suddenly Blaine was overcome, sobs passing from his lips as he broke down, crying out his misery at betraying the one he loved. He had failed Kurt. He had failed _them_.

He did not know how long he lay there, but abruptly, in the midst of his perfectly good bout of self-lambasting, he felt a large hand settle on his back. He flinched, his crying briefly ceasing before he heard the hand's owner speak.

"Easy squirt, it's just me."

Cooper. Cooper, who he was pretty certain was supposed to be filming his movie in LA was here. Blaine didn't even know when he dove at him, but there he was in seconds, head buried in the crook of his older brother's shoulder and neck as he cried out his misery to a worried, but still comforting Cooper.

Time passed without comment until finally, Blaine could cry no more and pulled back, his eyes decidedly red-rimmed and vulnerable. Cooper said nothing at first, simply easing him back onto the couch and rising. He bent, kissing the top of Blaine's hair lovingly before handing him a handkerchief from his pocket.

"You need something to drink," he told him softly, "lest you suffer from dehydration in the morning."

Blaine chuckled wetly at the joke, but cleaned up his face while his brother tinkered around his kitchen.

He was mostly back under control emotionally when Cooper returned, sporting two mugs of hot chocolate that Blaine gratefully took a long drag from.

"Dad made this for us," he whispered.

"Yup. Every time something gets you upset, dad whips out the hot chocolate."

"Because chocolate can solve the world's problems," Blaine quipped.

Cooper laughed, "If only everything could be so easily solved."

Blaine didn't respond to that, settling for draining his cup. Cooper did not press him at first, finishing his own drink and rinsing out the mugs before he returned, this time choosing to sit on the coffee table so he could look at his brother.

"Now, want to tell me what's going on?" he pressed gently. "It's not the best feeling in the world to come home and find your little brother crying his heart out on your couch. Would not have been a good look if I had brought home a date you know."

"As if anyone wants to date you," Blaine grumbled, shooting him a glare. "I went to a club tonight," he said momentarily.

He was a bit perturbed when Cooper's eyes widened slightly before a dark look settled on his face. "Did someone hurt you? Do you have a name? Who am I killing?"

"Wait what, no Cooper," he said quickly, reaching over to grasp his arm. "No one hurt me. I did something."

"Illegal?" Cooper pressed, relaxing only minutely. "Has mom called her lawyers yet?"

"I'm not you," he retorted with a small glare.

"Hey, I only got three weeks community service for that streaking incident," he shot back quickly.

"Well I'm not as crazy as you."

"That we both know. So, fine. You went to a club. Did you sneak some drinks and now feel massively guilty for that?"

"I danced with someone," Blaine admitted, ignoring Cooper's suggestions. "I got...horny."

"Oh..." Cooper said knowingly. "Well, seeing that it's now a little after twelve and you've been here under an hour, unless you got a blowjob in the bathroom, is it safe to assume...nothing happened?"

"I got hard Cooper!"

"And did you do anything about it?"

"I ran out of the club and came here."

Cooper paused, processing his brother's words. "Wait, you got a woody and ran out the club?"

"Yes."

"With mini-Blaine leading the way?" Cooper asked before breaking down into loud laughter, slapping his thighs. "You could have been arrested for public indecency," he said eventually with a snicker.

"Cooper!"

"What? It's hilarious."

"I cheated on Kurt!" Blaine snapped, and that, sobered his brother quickly.

"What? How? By getting hard? Dude, be serious here."

"I got aroused by someone else Cooper. That's cheating."

Cooper stared at him for a long moment, as if judging exactly how serious Blaine was being. When he realised that Blaine held absolute faith in his words, Cooper's mood darkened slightly.

"In what world is that cheating?" he demanded. "Did you kiss him?"

"No."

"Blow him?"

"Cooper! But no."

"Did he grab your junk and jerk you off or you do the same?"

"No!" Blaine half-shrieked, his face darkening at his brother's crude statements. "We didn't do anything like that!"

"Then," Cooper stated, "you did not cheat."

"Mentally then."

Cooper sighed, rubbing his neck. "Did you stop before anything happened?"

"Yes. I told you I ran out the club."

"Then you did not cheat."

"It doesn't feel that way," Blaine grumbled, looking down. "I feel horrible."

Cooper sighed, briefly noting that this was exactly why he had had some reservations when he had first realised just how deeply involved Blaine had become with his boyfriend. He liked Kurt well enough – would even say was beginning to feel love for the kid – but it was a bit worrying just how serious they were with each other and at such a young age. There was absolutely nothing wrong with what Blaine had done tonight, and yet here he sat in the woes of misery. As much as he hated to say it, Cooper would have much preferred if the pair had decided to put their relationship on hold for the year, to give them both the time to develop and grow separately. He was pretty certain if they had worked their way back to each other (and frankly he did not doubt that that would happen) they would have been in a much stronger position now. Shaking aside those thoughts for now, Cooper spoke again.

"The only thing you need to feel horrible about squirt is the blue balls you're potentially risking and worrying me. I knew I should have given you the sex talk myself and not left it to Dalton. What the hell did that school teach you?"

"You went to Dalton too!"

"True. Therefore you know nothing useful. I should rectify that if you think getting horny equals cheating."

Cooper stopped briefly, remembering just how open a policy his brother and Kurt had. "Blaine, _please_ tell me you didn't call Kurt telling him you cheated."

"Not yet."

"Not at all," Cooper ordered with a glare, "Especially if you're going to start that conversation with 'I cheated'. Because you did not little bro. You went clubbing, you got horny and you left. The end."

"I can't keep this from him, Cooper."

"I'm not saying that you can't tell him about this squirt," the older Anderson said carefully, "but what I'm concerned about is _what_ you say to him and _why_. Do you want to tell him about it? Go ahead, but think about your words carefully first. You know you can easily devastate Kurt and yourself if you go about this the wrong way and that is not something I want to happen. I also don't like how guilty you're feeling about all of this, but that is conversation for a different thing. I want you to answer me two things, okay Blaine?"

"Okay."

"One. Are you in love with Kurt?"

"Yes," he replied promptly and with a deep sincerity that both warmed and worried Cooper.

"Okay. Do you want to be in a relationship with Kurt?"

"For the rest of my life."

"Then you need to just the idea that you cheated go, Blaine, because trust me, you didn't and once you logically explain this to Kurt, he won't see it that way either."

"That makes sense," Blaine agreed after a moment's silence. "I'll do that Coop."

"Good boy. One last thing before we move on from this. I think you and Kurt need to sit down and have a conversation about…life generally okay? Maybe when you go back for Thanksgiving? I know how your head works Blaine, and I can already see you banning yourself from all clubbing until Kurt is here, which isn't fair to you. And you never know, Kurt maybe restricting himself in some ways as well, and this is his senior year. That isn't fair to either of you. Maybe it's something you guys didn't really recognise as an issue before, but maybe this is just the situation to bring that to light, okay?"

Blaine didn't respond; indeed, he just pulled his knees up to his chest before dropping his chin down on them.

And for now, Cooper would accept that as a response.


	6. Skyping

A/N: This chapter was actually meant to come before the previous one.

* * *

It was a rare night for them. Blaine had finished enough of his work to come on Skype, and Kurt, with nothing pressing for the next day, was able to stay up late enough to speak to him.

"I miss you so much." The words tumbled from Blaine's lips the moment Kurt's head came into view.

"I miss you too," Kurt returned immediately, his voice wavering. "It's hard without you here."

"I know poppet," Blaine said, "I can't even imagine being in Dalton without you."

"Jeff distracts me," Kurt answered, "it's hard for him too, but, it's not the same Blaine," he admitted, ducking his head.

"Don't hide your pretty eyes from me," Blaine coaxed, his voice reverberating through Kurt's ear buds, "especially when I'm not there to lift your head."

Kurt sniffed but complied, meeting his eyes through the screen again. "I can't wait for this year to be over."

"Don't rush it," Blaine told him. "I want you here with me too poppet, badly, but this is your senior year. Love every moment of it. Senior year was the best for me, and I want that for you too."

"All I want is you," Kurt told him, with a shrug, "but I'll try to. It's already mid-October."

"Exactly," Blaine responded, his voice perking up. "And I'll be home at the end of next month for Thanksgiving week, remember? And you're going to join my family and I up here for New Years."

"And you're coming back for spring break," Kurt added, his own voice picking up slightly, "and you're not going to do any internships or anything this summer so-"

"I'll be right back in Ohio with you for your last summer home and then we'll come back out here, together - "

"No matter which school I decide to go to."

"Exactly poppet," Blaine finished, noticing but not commenting on the way Kurt's voice dipped into tentativeness with that last sentence.

"I still miss you though," Kurt told him.

"Me too. I really wish I was there. I'd love to see in person what you guys are doing with the Warblers. Hearing about the changes you've made just isn't good enough. I mean seriously, you guys are getting costumes made?"

"I designed it," Kurt said proudly. "Do you want to see the sketches?"

"Surprise me with pictures when they're done," Blaine answered, "With you as the model of course."

Kurt's cheeks flushed slightly. "I wish I can see your library," Kurt admitted once he had recovered sufficiently. "It seems so grand."

"It is! I'll sneak you in for a tour when you're here."

"Blaine the criminal," he teased.

"You'll bail me out of prison?"

"Of course I will," Kurt agreed, "except, won't I be next to you in the cell?"

"True." Blaine tapped his cheek thoughtfully for a moment. "I'll just have to plan out a schedule for Nick, so he and Jeff can bail us out first and then we'll return the favour."

"Blaine!" Kurt huffed with a laugh, "you're silly."

" _Your_ silly," he responded.

"Yes, my silly."

"Forever," Blaine breathed, before chuckling at the way his sincerity caused Kurt to blush.


	7. Doubts

Kurt's fingers hesitated over the dial button on his cell phone - an act strange in itself. There had never been a time (well excluding those first few weeks of uncertainty) when Kurt had ever hesitated to call Blaine. But, he couldn't do it, because, what exactly was he supposed to say? The usual "Hey you," seemed entirely too artificial right about now, and he wasn't exactly certain he could listen to the sound of Blaine's voice anyway without bursting into tears. He wasn't even certain if he had the right to cry over this...or did he? He didn't even know. He sighed, dropping the phone into his lap before running his hand agitatedly through his hair.

"Why did he even tell me?" he grumbled, staring at his phone again, "I mean...it isn't cheating...is it?" It was the question plaguing Kurt since Blaine's tearful phone call the night before. Kurt's mind told him that logically, it wasn't cheating...Blaine had exited the situation as soon as he had realised exactly how compromising the entire thing was. But his heart...in his heart Kurt felt betrayed, although honestly, he was still working out exactly why.

Kurt took in a deep breath, and gave himself exactly ten more seconds to wallow in his confusion (and just a smidgen of self pity) before he forcibly shook it off and exited the car, hoping that neither Jeff nor Trent would really notice - or else comment on - the lack of sling he was wearing today. It just wasn't something he could deal with. He had contemplated removing his promise ring as well, but...that...that he could not have brought himself to do. Not until he had figured out exactly what the hell was going on with his previously, uncomplicated relationship.

Forgoing the pathway to the main buildings for the grassy track that led to the tree that had morphed into their preferred spot for Council meetings, Kurt's lips curled despite himself as he caught sight of Trent's large frame already there leaning against the tree with Jeff a little distance away, staring at a spot on the ground. What was the little mad scientist trying to unearthen now? Kurt wondered fondly as he approached.

"I come with our fortune or our doom!" he intoned ominously when he got close enough.

"Kurtsie!" Jeff squealed, attention immediately diverting to him.

"Jeffie," he returned, before smiling at Trent, who, almost regretfully, set aside his latest novel.

"Hey Kurt," Trent greeted, patting the spot beside him, "got here okay?"

"Yeah, the drive's a breeze on a weekend," he commented, dropping down beside him. "Sorry you guys had to wait on me."

"It's no problem. We live in the dorms...we would have probably been roaming the grounds anyway."

"Finished all your homework already?" Kurt guessed shrewdly, even as he fished around in his bag for the envelope Mr. Kentwood had given to him the previous afternoon - an envelope they had agreed not to open until this very moment.

"It wasn't that much."

"We should have taken the languages path, Kurtsie," Jeff declared, finally dropping down in front of the two of them, crossing his legs beneath him, "they never seem to have that much to do."

"Can you really see yourself studying three languages as well as the history and culture surrounding them?" Trent asked.

"Hell no, English is hard enough."

"You are so not going to fail French under my watch," Kurt warned, before waving the envelope he had finally found.

Jeff groaned, raising a hand to shield his eyes as if the envelope burnt. "Did you have to bring that out."

"We should have checked yesterday," Kurt told him, "but you had rathered we cry in peace and solitude if need be."

"Yeah well, we have been on edge ever since the Show Choir board declared they were changes the borders for the various zones once again."

"Why couldn't they have been as straight forward as the Accapella Board? Hey states? Do whatever you want, just ensure we end up with one group by next May, okay?"

"We are going to have to compete against the Lady Bugs you know," Trent pointed out, "we shouldn't take this lightly."

"We'll squash them at the competition in January," Jeff dismissed with a wave, "This on the other hand," he said, grimacing as he gestured towards the envelope. "Do you know? Did you talk to Finn?"

"Mr. Shue does things a...bit differently. Even if he even bothered to collect his letter already, he won't tell The New Directions anything until the week before. They function best under pressure."

"I would get an aneurism in that group," Trent muttered.

"It was...fun," Kurt allowed, "once you got past all the insults, fighting, weirdly incestuous relationships and back-stabbing."

"Sounds like the recipe for a TV show."

"If only," Kurt laughed. "Now come on," he bid, handing Trent the envelope, "open it."

Trent obeyed, opening and taking out the letter within.

"Hang on," Jeff interrupted before he could start reading. "What are we hoping for again?"

"Not New Directions or Vocal Adrenaline," Kurt said, "for obvious reasons."

"New Directions schooled us well last time," Jeff admitted.

"And Vocal Adrenaline creamed them in the Finals," Trent added, "just like they're going to do to us in two weeks."

"You cheated!" Jeff protested, while Kurt simply groaned.

"We're against Vocal Adrenaline for Sectionals?"

"Alongside the Star Loving Gransters," he confirmed, "And does that group sound like..."

"Old ladies rapping? It does."

"We're dead," Trent said, shaking his head, "we don't stand a single chance against them."

"We'll just start prepping for the Christmas concert instead."

"Hey," Kurt said after a moment, "look it won't be easy, but...we shouldn't give up on this."

"We shouldn't?" Jeff said in disbelief, "the New Directions stand not a chance against them, and they usually come out ahead of us. We shouldn't even bother."

"He has a point Kurt," Trent agreed, "the team will be disappointed, but..."

"We are not giving up," Kurt declared, with a determination he found surprising even to himself. He knew first hand just how...difficult (or rather suicidal) it was to go up against the current champions of nine years, but, what was there truly to lose? Their pride? "Guys, we can do this."

"I think you took too many anxiety pills this morning."

"Shut up Jeff," he snapped, resisting the urge to pull and throw a handful of grass at him, "I only took one extra," he added, hoping that they would take it as a joke.

"Kurt, we can't beat them."

"It would be hard to," Kurt said nodding, "but you know why The New Directions is so hard to beat? Because they believe. Even when there is nothing left that can possibly go right for them, they believe in themselves, and win, lose or draw it pulls them through. It's a mentality I had lost for a while, until I found a reason to find it back." Kurt drifted off briefly as Blaine's smiling face shot across his mind before continuing, ignoring the pang that accompanied the image. "And I think it's something you guys can develop as well. Are Vocal Adrenaline better than us? Yes. Can we beat them. Yes, if we try. We've already put so much work into the team this year, and all these sore limbs from those dance classes will not be for nothing," he declared.

"You know you like those burgeoning muscles," Jeff quipped, waggling his eyebrows at Kurt.

"Don't ever say burgeoning again," Trent demanded, even as he snorted back a laugh. "You give one hell of a pep-talk Kurt," he told him, "but you're right I guess. We have put a lot of work into the team. Not just the dancing - which I would have you know helped me shed eight pounds so far - so maybe it's not all in vain."

"I suppose," Jeff stated with a shrug, "And we won't be the token novelty act this time. We actually figured out how we can blend music into our Accapella routine. Phillip's a genius in that way. He'll be a great Council member next year."

"He will," Kurt seconded. "We have evolved and Vocal Adrenaline doesn't know that. They'll be underestimating us by expecting the usual. We won't be that. We'll be us. Remember our promise. This is our Warbler team now, and we're shaping it how we feel best. They won't be expecting that - the judges won't be expecting that. If we pull together a routine and an actual storyline with our song selections, we can beat them. I know we can."

"Or we can go down fighting," Jeff said cheerfully, shoving a fist into the air, "either option is fine with me. Aim for the stars!"

"Because if you fail you'll still be among the clouds."

"With your friends to help you shake it off and move on," Kurt finished, "We can do this guys. I know we can."

"Let's talk about it."

"About what?" Kurt asked, looking up at the sky through the leaves of the tree.

* * *

It was nearly lunchtime now, and Trent had long since left them for a date with his Crawford girl friend. Jeff had persuaded Kurt to stay with him for a few more hours, not that Kurt had needed that much cajoling. But, as Kurt was quickly realising, it seemed that Jeff had an agenda.

"Something's wrong," Jeff said, cuddling closer into his side for a moment before propping his head on his hand so he could better look at him. Kurt turned, briefly making eye contact with him before looking away. It didn't happen often, but the times that Jeff chose to be serious were rather scary. He always got his way in those moments.

"Blaine went to a club last night," Kurt admitted softly.

"With Nick - I know. He made a big show of telling me so I wouldn't call him."

Kurt briefly sought Jeff's face at that, surprised by the sudden darkness that crept into his tone. Jeff though, on seeing his curious expression, quickly schooled his face back into neutrality. "Did...something happen?"

"I don't even know," Kurt grumbled, throwing his fully functioning arm back in frustration. "He ended up dancing with some guy who seems like a god on earth."

"He didn't-" Jeff said, with a gasp.

"I don't know," Kurt replied, and suddenly, unexpectedly, his voice choked as his confusion, given this small opening, released from within him in a torrent. "He didn't have sex with him. But...it got close. He said that he got aroused, and that he really enjoyed feeling the guy on him...and feeling him back."

"Shit," Jeff swore. "Kurt...I'm sorry."

"For what?" Kurt snapped, before letting out a dark laugh. "He didn't cheat...it's not like he had sex with the guy."

"You're hurt," Jeff said firmly, "which means that Blaine did something that is not okay with you. Which I suppose means that he did cheat."

"He said the same thing," Kurt responded, "he started off the conversation with 'I think I cheated Kurt'."

"He didn't even know?"

"Cooper thinks he didn't. Cooper didn't even want him to tell me. Cooper may have been right."

"He would have told you regardless. I've known Blaine a lot longer than you Kurt, and he just can't keep a secret. It kills me. You would have realised something was wrong the moment he stepped foot back in Ohio."

"Did he cheat?" Kurt asked, turning to his side so he could meet Jeff's eyes. "Did he cheat on me, Jeff?"

"I-I...there's no easy answer, but in a way, yeah he did. He broke your trust."

"We never spoke about this. It never even occurred to me that we should speak about this."

"Boundaries are important."

"Do we need boundaries?" Kurt asked, "Is it even fair to have boundaries?"

"Every relationship should have boundaries."

"He's a freshman in college. Should he have boundaries?"

"That I don't know," Jeff said, and once again there was that sudden darkness colouring his tone. "Who knows? Maybe he loves you. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe you're just a nuisance to him he can't find of polite way of getting rid of."

"Are we still talking about Blaine, Jeff?" Kurt asked, reaching over to touch his shoulder.

Jeff recoiled, blinking rapidly for a moment, "Err...yeah, of course Kurt. We're talking about Blaine, and, I assume, how your relationship is going to progress from this."

"I don't know how we will," Kurt told him softly, "but I do know one thing Jeff. I really don't think my life would ever be really complete without him. He's too important to me."

Jeff didn't answer for a long while. Instead, he reached out and grasping Kurt, rolled so that he was on his back with Kurt's head pillowed on his shoulder. Finally, and just when Kurt had believed that they were settling down for a nap, Jeff spoke softly, his gaze firmly upwards. "I wish we had found a way to keep them from graduating."

"Things would have been a lot easier then," Kurt agreed. "Love really is a complicated thing I guess," he added, although his tone now was more hesitant, testing a theory he had only now formulated.

"Yeah...love..." Jeff said slowly, "it is one hell of a thing."

It was Kurt's time to be silent now, as he snuggled closer into the closest friend he had in Dalton. It seemed as if he wasn't the only one suffering.


	8. Sectionals

"Kurt?"

"Hi Phillip," Kurt greeted, turning in the corridor and smiling at the shorter, Junior Warbler, "what's up?"

Phillip twisted his mouth for a moment, as if deliberating what to say.

"Something bothering you?" Kurt guessed after a moment, jerking his head in a 'follow me' gesture before walking. The sandy-haired teenager fell easily in step beside him, and Kurt, realising that this may be a longer conversation than was normal for them, led them into one of the rarely used classrooms on the way to the Senior Commons room. He thumbed off his bag before chuckling as Phillip pulled out a chair and sat, crossing his legs quite properly at the ankles. It was at moments like these that Kurt's upbringing stood out as he settled for hopping up onto the table in front of him without a second thought. Such proper mannerisms seemed inbred into the majority of these Dalton boys, and at times like this, amused Kurt terribly.

"We're alone now Phillip," Kurt said cajolingly, "what do you want to talk about?"

Phillip squirmed for a moment, and his eyes remained firmly averted when he finally asked, "Is Jeff okay?" Kurt blinked, and, as if sensing his surprise, Phillip rushed on. "I just...he seems different...has been for a while now, and I'm just a bit worried," Phillip hurried to explain. "I mean he's on the Council and what affects him affects all of us, so I just wanted to make sure he's okay."

Kurt barely resisted the urge to chuckle, even as he was still processing the implications behind what the boy had asked. That was a good save, he admitted to himself. Jeff was doing his outright best to carry on as if nothing at all was wrong...if Kurt had not been under the tree with him that weekend, he might have even fallen for the ruse. So, for Phillip, who to his knowledge, rarely dealt with Jeff in any real way to notice and seek Kurt out to inquire about him...

This was really turning into an interesting semester, Kurt decided, for the better or worst.

"Jeff...is dealing with some things," he admitted, not wanting to elaborate on the situation, but still not wanting to outright lie to Phillip since he was obviously genuinely concerned. "He's not one hundred percent right about now, but his mind is firmly focussed on the competition on Wednesday."

"I-I'm glad," he responded, "that he's okay. I mean...that's exactly what we need if we're to beat them! No distractions."

"None," Kurt agreed, his lips twitching. This could be amusing. "Are you okay? This is going to be the first major competition where you have a real singing role."

"Are you sure I should do it? You guys are placing a lot of trust in me."

Kurt offered him a small smile. "I know you'll be fine, and I understand your nervousness, which is why you've only got part of the first verse. Take those lines and own them, and you never know, you may have an entire song for yourself next year."

"I doubt," he scoffed, "I-I really prefer dancing...now that you guys have integrated it, I'm a lot more happy."

"You're a great dancer," Kurt acknowledged, "And you have a good eye for choreography, don't think we haven't noticed. And, you've even found a way to make me look good dancing, which in itself deserves a medal."

Phillip laughed at that, Kurt joining in.

"If we win Tuesday," Kurt continued once they had calmed down, "your choreography would have had a large part to do with it."

"And if we don't win, at least we have the rest of Thanksgiving week to wallow in turkey and cranberry sauce."

Kurt guffawed at that. "You are such a terrible pessimist."

"I prefer the term realist," he shot back, and Kurt laughed openly at that, reaching over to pat his shoulder.

"Kurtsie!" Jeff's voice came suddenly from beyond the room, "is that you I hear laughing without me?" The door opened (quite dramatically) seconds later, with Jeff standing there with a mock-enraged expression on his face that quickly turned to shock when he saw them. "Umm...sorry, didn't realise I was interrupting."

"Interrupting what?" Kurt asked, even as Phillip jumped up, dislodging Kurt's hand. "I-I have to go Kurt," he said, and quickly headed for the door, "thanks for the help. Goo-good bye Jeff," he added as he by-passed him.

Kurt frowned, confused by his sudden exit. "Interrupting what?" he repeated, watching as Jeff closed the door before shooting him a very odd look.

"You two seemed quite cosy."

Kurt stared at him for a moment before groaning, "Oh come on Jeff," he said in exasperation, "you scared him off because of that?"

Jeff shrugged, claiming the now empty seat in front of Kurt before resting a hand on his knee. "You and Blaine are still...undecided and Philip's bi, so…"

"Don't even go there," Kurt snapped, flecking his finger against Jeff's knuckle. "Were you looking for me?"

"I was," he confirmed, "Mr. Kentwood said that we have permission to have a dry run after lunch tomorrow. They'll shorten the class-times in the afternoon so everyone gets to see it...and well, offer any last prayers- I mean _advice_."

"So funny," Kurt quipped, scowling at him. "We will be fine."

"This theme thing is so left-field," Jeff complained, "'International' could mean anything. What if they come out singing in Korean or something?"

"I am pretty certain New Directions is considering doing that," Kurt admitted, "but I think we'll be fine. Britain thankfully has great music, and our two songs are bound to appeal to all age demographics. And as far as I've seen a dance transition between the songs is pretty innovative for Show Choir."

"We've been working really hard on this."

"We have, but I think that this stress is exactly what we needed right about now."

"It is," Jeff agreed, and briefly, that mask of his fell. "Is Blaine still coming for Thanksgiving?"

Kurt nodded. "It is better this way," he explained. "There are so many things I need to say and he needs to say and...I just don't see a phone call or Skype being sufficient."

"It's bound to make for an awkward evening though."

Kurt chuckled darkly at that, "Yeah well, I am not really certain if he's going to make it in time for Thanksgiving dinner. He has a paper due Wednesday. If he doesn't finish by tomorrow he'll just stay in New York until Friday. It'd be crazy to expect him to try to travel on the day itself."

"Yeah well, it's good to see you guys are at least trying to keep the promises you made."

"Jeff," Kurt breathed, resisting the urge to touch him. Jeff, for all that he was usually quite tactile, despised touch when he was angry or upset unless he expressly sought it out, and Kurt respected that.

"Anyway," he said brightly, "Grandmother says that since he's not going to come there's really no need to remain in Westerville. We're going to head out to our cabin and celebrate there."

"Sounds great," Kurt said lightly, accepting that the conversation was done. "I would invite myself along, but this might be the last family thanksgiving like this we're going to celebrate."

"A next disastrous effect of college," Jeff grumbled, "I am _so_ camping out in your house come December when applications begin."

"No problem. Watching Blaine do his is actually going to prove to be quite useful."

"Awesome, now come on," he bid, getting up and pulling Kurt off his desk, "I want to get some popcorn before practice starts."

"Why do you need-"

"No questions Kurtsie!" Jeff demanded, skipping to the door. "Come on. Popcorn awaits!"

And, as always, Kurt couldn't bring himself to refuse him.

Kurt's cheeks expanded as he blew out a puff of air, pacing back and forth, trying to calm himself. Maybe he should have taken a second pill after all, he thought dismally. He was in a small room in the backstage area of the performance venue, isolated from everyone else as he tried to calm himself down. He could do it, he knew he could. Except...it was a lot harder to keep up a front of confidence when alone. It was the main reason he had chosen to separate himself from the group, hoping that Jeff and Trent would be enough to keep them together for now. The pretence had been starting to affect him and he had just needed to get away for a few minutes.

At least they hadn't been seated due to performing second to Vocal Adrenaline, and Kurt could only hope that was the only second they received that day. He sighed again, deeper this time as he stopped, only now realising that his left hand was rubbing up and down against his custom-made sling. He really wished that today of all days his arm would not have decided to tremor violently to this extent as he much, but, so far, his recently acquired immobiliser was doing its job and the pain was manageable. He had not wanted to risk taking a full-strength pill pre-performance, but he was pretty certain that adrenaline would take him through this. He wanted to win. They _had_ to win.

That thought though, instead of bolstering Kurt, unnerved him even more, and, without really even realising it, his hand dug into his pocket and soon, he was dialling Blaine. Everything between them was secondary right now; he needed him.

"I don't know if I can do this," he blurted out the moment he heard Blaine's voice.

"Kurt," Blaine breathed out, instantly alert, "you definitely can do this."

"No, no I can't Blaine," Kurt countered, his voice shaking as he shook his head back and forth. "Who am I kidding? This is _Vocal Adrenaline_ , Blaine. We don't have a chance in hell to win and why did we even bother to come here? Why did I-"

"Poppet," Blaine interrupted, his tone firm, "take deep breaths for me. That's it sweetheart, breathe for me."

"Blaine-"

"Shhhh," Blaine hushed, "don't speak for a moment. Just breathe and relax. That's what you called me for, I think. To help you relax. And that's what I'm going to do. So just relax and close your eyes. You know your songs, you know your choreography. I know Vocal Adrenaline is a difficult team to beat, but you have conquered so much in the past two years. This is just one more challenge for you, and Poppet, I know you can overcome this. You just need to have faith in yourself, and faith in the team you are leading. You can do this Kurt."

Blaine spoke for a bit longer, his voice deliberately calm and soothing in a way that helped unravel Kurt's nerves, even as it tickled his emotions and caused him to sniffle once Blane had fallen quiet. "I wish you were here."

"I know Poppet," Blaine acknowledged, and Kurt was heartened to realise that his own voice was no longer steady. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it back in time, but you can do this."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said then, "sorry that I haven't really spoken to you over the last few days, and now to call you like this when you have your paper to finish. Oh god, I'm disturbing you aren't I?"

"It's okay," Blaine assured him, "You will never be a distraction to me. I know that we have a lot to work out, and we will deal with that once I get there, but let's forget that for now okay? This isn't about us, and the way I screwed this up for us. This is about you getting through this performance. Everything else is secondary right now."

"You're crying," Kurt correctly deduced, even as he switched the phone to speaker and put it on the table in front of him so that he could wipe at his eyes.

"A little," Blaine acknowledged, "it is really good to hear your voice right now Kurt."

"Same here," Kurt agreed, "God, I love you Blaine, so much."

"I love you too Kurt. I always will." Kurt heard Blaine take a shuddering breath before pressing on, "It's almost half ten. You should go now."

"Are you nearly done with your paper?"

"You're hedging," Blaine said with a watery laugh.

"I am," Kurt answered with a chuckle of his own, "but are you?"

"I have to upload it by midnight. I have time poppet. Now no more distractions. You've got a team to lead."

"I'll call you after?"

"I'll be waiting," Blaine confirmed. "Good luck Kurt. And no matter what, remember I'm proud of you."

"Thanks Blaine. Bye."

"Bye Poppet."

Kurt sighed as he pocketed the phone. Calling Blaine had been a good decision, he knew, looking into the small mirror on the wall to assess the possible damage he had caused to his face, grateful that it was minimal. He was better now - more grounded. He was glad that he had not thought about it; to do so would have caused indecision and uncertainty, two feelings he really did not need at this moment.

Indeed, all of the confidence he had shown over the past few days was back. Kurt found himself grinning softly at his own reflection, and took a second to flick a strand of hair back into place. Jeff had tussled his hair into an artfully disarrayed hairstyle, one that suited the sleek, black outfit that he was wearing. They definitely had shed their gentlemanly, schoolboy look with this outfit, and Kurt was ever so grateful for it. The audience would love the transition between the two acts, he told himself, as, finally, as prepared as he would ever be, Kurt straightened and left the room to return to his team, and hopefully, victory.

"You look worried," Puck said, closing the door to the choir room.

Finn didn't acknowledge him for a moment, too busy sending off a text before he responded. "It's one of those days where I should have listened to my mom and just skipped school."

"Oh?" Puck responded, straddling a chair near to his long time childhood friend. "You worried that Kurt's gonna choke on stage?"

Finn shot him a mild glare at that. "He's past the nerves stage," he informed him, with a hint of pride, "I haven't seen him so confident about anything since...well...I'm not sure I ever have to be honest," Finn admitted, "and that's a bit worrisome."

"He'd get his panties in a bunch if he lost."

"Puck," Finn ground out.

The mohawk sporting teenager held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, forgot that you got a permanent hard-on when it comes to him."

"God why do I still talk to you," Finn snapped, rising abruptly.

"Hey, hey, hey," Puck said in a placating tone, "I'm not trying to make you mad."

"Oh really?"

"Come on man, talk to me. What's eating you up in side? Well other than Vocal Adrenaline eating the Warblers for lunch."

"You're acting like we could have beaten them."

"Hey," Puck said, nonchalantly, "we'll get our asses whooped come February. Might as well revel in their suffering for now."

"Nice."

"Anyway, dude, what's the problem?"

Finn sighed. "Not that you'd care, but Blaine just texted me."

"Oh yeah...you gonna beat him up or something?"

"On principle I should," Finn admitted, "but really, I think this whole thing's gotten blown out of proportion."

"Says the one who dumped Rachel for kissing someone else while you guys _weren't_ together."

Finn didn't even bother to dignify that with a response. "What I'm saying is that I don't think Blaine dancing with a next dude is the real issue. But, that's for them to figure out. I just don't know if Blaine's timing is the best. Kurt's going to be distraught when they lose. Maybe Blaine should have just waited for Christmas after all to come here."

"Well no matter what happens, you'll be a good papa to Kurt and put him back together again."

"Dude," Finn groaned.

"Do you rather me call you his fuck-buddy, because that's one of the less kind names running around for you these days."

Finn's expression darkened briefly before he shrugged. "Look, I've told you this before Puck. I don't give a damn what anyone has to say about me anymore. They all lost that privilege the minute Karofsky and Azimo attacked Kurt."

"Yeah well, as far as they see, your Kurt lost this school two of their best football players and we've been getting our asses kicked ever since."

"We haven't won a competition since Shuester was a student here," Finn scoffed, dropping back down into his seat. "And I must have been doing something right if Coach Bieste never replaced me as Captain."

"Rumour has it that's because-"

"I don't give a damn about the rumours, Puck," Finn interrupted smoothly. "I'm starting to think that Kurt really has the right mentality about this place and everyone in it."

"And what's that?"

"Nothing," Finn said, knowing better than to vocalise that he was starting to understand why Kurt had deemed this a place filled with losers...losers Finn was starting to feel like he wanted nothing to do with once he had his diploma in his hand.

Anything Puck wanted to say was interrupted by the arrival of the remainder of their team, and, grateful for the distraction, Finn moved away to take his spot at the front, mildly curious but overall not quite caring, who between Rachel and Quinn chose to sit by him. The more he learnt about how Kurt and his friends were running The Warblers, the more Finn sort of craved the organisation they had. They were completing on Saturday in their Sectionals, and even now, three days before, Mr. Shue was still trying to come up with a song list, a task made increasingly difficult by the protests erupting from every suggestion that was made, particularly since it was quite clear that Rachel was only offering up options that would allow her to be centre stage.

Finn chose to stay quiet and avoid the bulk of the protests. All their words equally had merit and yet were quite silly, and truthfully, he wasn't exactly sure how Mr. Shue was keeping his temper in check. Except...nope, the man was shouting now, and that was the only thing that was bringing a semblance of order back to the room. And there now, he noted, was Rachel evoking those tears of hers in protest to the scolding, and as always, Mr. Shue was capitulating to it, and yup, now was the perfect time for him to just return his focus to his cell-phone and to check for random updates on Facebook while waiting for the inevitable text from Kurt. Maybe he really should have bought those flowers...

"Finn, I expected better from you."

Finn raised his head, confusion etched on his face as he found Mr. Shuester standing inches from him. "What?" he asked, rather stupidly.

"We are in one of the most important meetings of the semester and you can't keep your eyes off Facebook?"

Finn's irritation rose a bit. "The only thing that's been happening so far is you making suggestions that everyone is rejection. I rather not take part in this shouting fest this time around. If you have a problem with that, sorry."

"Well don't hold back, Frankenteen."

"Whatever Santana," he shot back rolling his eyes. "Look, I'm not being rude Mr. Shue, but I'm just not going to participate in the chaos. If you want, I'll put away the phone, but I'm not going to get involved in this."

The teacher looked at him for a long moment, as if wanting to dispute what he was saying before finally just shrugging and turned away. Finn was grateful, and, in appreciation for his compliance, he pocketed the phone, and although it did nothing to soothe his frazzled nerves, tried to pay attention. And he managed to for most of the rehearsal, grateful when their attention turned to actual important matters. He was distracted though when his phone vibrated in his pocket. His data and Wi-fi was off, so that could only mean a text message. Pulling away from the group, he squatted down beside the piano, hoping that Mr. Shue wouldn't notice him for the few seconds it took him to - "Oh my god!" he gasped out.

"What?" Sam, who was nearest to him demanded, stopping mid move, "what happened?"

"Finn!" Mr Shue scolded, but his words barely registered to him, as Finn quickly widened the picture Burt had sent to his phone.

"Is that The Warblers?" Sam asked, looking over his shoulder. "No way!" he gasped a second later, "This cannot be real."

"What? What is happening?" Rachel demanded, even as Artie, seeming to catch on quicker than everyone else, turned on the television in the corner of the room, quickly flipping through until he found a local news channel.

All attention diverted to the screen as they saw a clip of The Warblers performing.

"Glad You Came," Finn muttered, watching with pride as the teenagers executed perfect twirls and flips. He barely resisted the urge to fist bump when he saw Kurt perform a one-armed cartwheel over a bent Jeff before landing on his feet with what can only be described as a smug grin on his face before he belted out a note, and damn, he had not even realised Kurt could reach so low a tone now. Their own practice was forgotten as they took in the spectacle.

"They gave up on accapella?" Rachel said, shooting him a glare.

He ignored her; what Kurt told him in confidence was not the group's business, and he knew the reverse held true for his brother.

"Wow!" Sam gasped, as a Warbler Finn recognised as Trent, perfectly caught Kurt as he leaped at him before tossing him into the air, an action mirrored on the other side of the stage with Jeff as the flier.

"Damn Porcelain!" Santana shouted as a next Warbler somehow reached beside Trent in perfect time to catch Kurt who snapped his unbound hand in the end, queuing one final light change to rainbow colours as The Warblers went into the home stretch. Their moves were a mixture of hip hop and more graceful, almost gymnastic-like moves that Kurt and Jeff particularly seemed to be excelling at before, finally, they ended in a group formation with, and Finn was not ashamed to say it, sexy looks on their faces which drew screams from the audience that was already on their feet.

What Finn was seeing validated the message that accompanied the text he had gotten.

"And there you have it folks," the brunette reporter said, as the footage ended and reverted to her, "the winning performance of The Dalton Academy Warblers! You have seen it here first, a major upset in the Show Choir world as Nine-Time Champions Vocal Adrenaline have failed to advance past the Sectionals round. It seems that there is a new team to watch out for this year! The other teams in the circuit better watch out. These Warblers have given a message here loud and clear. They are out for victory, and right about now, I pity anyone who is going to come up against them."

"Well screw me sideways," Puck breathed as Artie clicked off the television, "They did it."

"Kurt did it," Mercedes said with pride.

Finn didn't even bother to reply. His phone was already pressed to his ear as he waited for Kurt to answer to congratulate him. He had always known it and this was the proof. There was really nothing his little brother couldn't do once he set his mind to it. It seemed like that Kurt Hummel he had first gotten to know was truly back in action, and way improved from his younger self. And Finn loved him for it.


	9. Home

With a last hopeful plea to whoever it was that existed out there, Blaine clicked his mouse key, and with that, his torment was over. The most difficult assignment he had encountered thus far was complete, and he could finally take a much deserved rest. He glanced at the time at the bottom of his laptop screen and whistled appreciatively as he saw that it was only 9:58. He had beat the cut-off limit by a good two hours, a feat in itself given the chaos that had been his personal life over the past few days, and, more recently, the more pleasant distraction of flailing about his room in celebration with Kurt for a few minutes before he had allowed him to be swept away for a well-deserved night of revelry with his teammates. His whimsical smile faded away as he noted that he would not be there to celebrate with him, but, as he told himself, it was okay. For once he had had to make something else a priority over Kurt, but they would survive and endure...hopefully.

Blaine shook his head to dispel that last, dismal thought. Without the urgent pressure of academics on him anymore, the nagging worry, regret and overall depression that had settled over him ever since that club night threatened to overtake him and right now, the night before the holiday, he could not allow that to happen. His therapist hired post-Priscilla had given him a wealth of information he could use to centre his thoughts and take control of himself, some of which he had already somewhat knew because of Kurt. He, ironically, never thought that there would be a day when he needed such methods for himself, but now, Blaine curled himself into a comfortable position on the chair before allowing his eyes to drift close, as, systematically, he acknowledged and shuttered away the different memories and feelings that wanted to take centre stage, gratified that, when he finally opened his eyes, he felt considerably more centred. Kurt had previously suggested that he take up yoga, and if this was an indication of what full immersion into it could offer, Blaine was tempted to give in.

Kurt...

Blaine resettled at his desktop, and quickly pulled up a file of photos he stored, easily locating and opening the folder aptly named "Poppet". He started looking through some of the photos they had taken together during their last summer before Blaine had come here. That depicted Kurt was not too different from the one Blaine had met. His face was adorably rounded, with an easily maintainable hairstyle that at times made him look all of thirteen situation dependent. That Kurt was about an inch or two shorter than him, and, beneath the long sleeve shirts he more often than not wore, was an undefined body that Blaine adored cuddling close. It was the one real contrast between them. Blaine had always been the more athletic of the two, and thus, he appeared considerably more toned than his boyfriend in the picture.

Blaine closed the folder then, making a note to upload some of the photos on his phone to it at some point. For now he settled for accessing his phone's gallery, marvelling at the changes he saw and looked forward to seeing soon enough. Ever since the new Council had decided to up the Warblers' choreography, Kurt had increasingly participated in a number of physical activities, from actual dance classes, to a twice weekly gym workout with Jeff, to occasionally joining Finn on some of his jogs. That in itself had struck Blaine in those early weeks when a decidedly sweaty Kurt had Skyped with him. Previously, while not exactly resistant to the idea of utilising his body, Kurt was quite particular about what he would or would not allow himself to do, or who was allowed to touch him. Blaine had, throughout his senior year, felt particularly proud of the fact that he (and to a lesser extent Andrew) were really the only two people that Kurt had allowed to touch him with relative freeness. To watch a picture of Kurt being cradled in the arms of Trent during a routine practice was startling to him. Kurt was growing, slowly but surely into his own person, and although he was proud, Blaine was a bit worried as to the Kurt he would find when he returned to Ohio for (sadly) only a brief period.

He was not even really thinking about this in terms of the physical changes he would meet (although he chuckled at Kurt's prediction that they would probably be the same height now) but also the emotional. As difficult as it was for him to have come here, would his temporary return prove detrimental to Kurt? Or even to himself? Those first few days apart had been terrible, and even now Blaine could still recall that conversation with Finn in which he had reported with clear tiredness in his tone that Kurt had all but locked himself away in his room the entire day after Blaine had left and was decidedly red-eyed and docile when he finally emerged.

Blaine had felt terrible about it at the time, especially since the pang of their separation had easily given way to his excitement for his new living space, the novelty of just having Nick with him now among other things. He had been worried about how Kurt would be without him, had actively wondered if he should not have just delayed a year to wait for Kurt to graduate as he had occasionally contemplated doing. After all, and it was only something he had truly recognised in hindsight, Kurt's life had become so intertwined with his that it was difficult to imagine an existence without each other. Except for the fact that Kurt was the one who depended on Blaine in a larger capacity. Blaine had become the foundation upon which Kurt had centred himself, and as much as Blaine had loved then how much he was needed, it was not until they had truly separated that he had realised how detrimental that had been for the one left behind. He had been worried about how Kurt would handle the distance, but it seemed that Kurt had taken that pain and had molded it into something magnificent, developing himself in a way that astonished Blaine. He truly had not expected Kurt to throw himself so fully into things and to actively take control. It was a side to his boyfriend that he had never truly encountered except in the odd occasion, or seen lurking deep within him. He was glad that that Kurt was now emerging, that Kurt felt safe and secure enough in himself to unleash it to the world. But, what if that Kurt found that he really did not need Blaine as much as he thought he did? Especially in light of the stupid actions Blaine had taken, what if Kurt decided that he could grow and develop himself and be fine without him? That he did not need him in any true capacity in his life?

Blaine didn't really know how he would survive if that truly was the case.

"Are you finished packing?" Nick asked, looking up as Blaine passed him to access the mini-fridge. "You got to go soon."

"I'm almost done," Blaine answered after he had drained half the bottle, "just got the little knick-knacks I collected left to pack."

"You know what you're going to say?" Nick inquired next, following him into his bedroom before sitting on the edge of his bed, "I really want this sorted out before you come back."

"Me too Nick," Blaine responded, kneeling in front of his small suitcase, "I'm nervous about it, but I think this is a long overdue conversation at this point. But Kurt was right, I really don't think that this was something we could have sorted out over the phone."

"It probably would have been hard to," he agreed, "don't forget to give him a hug for me though," he added, slightly more jovially, "and tell him that I'm extra proud of him."

"You and everyone else," Blaine stated with a small laugh, "I still can't believe they won."

"Me either," Nick said. "They looked phenomenal. Kind of makes me wish I could go back to Dalton to perform with them."

"Ode to the simpler times," Blaine quipped, "when we could just sing away all our problems."

"No one says we can't," Nick pointed out, "there is a glee club here too you know."

"Won't be the same though," he muttered, "but if you want we could try it."

"Maybe."

Blaine closed his suitcase after packing away the last of the stuff he needed to take with him to Lima. "Is there anything you want me to carry?" he inquired, "Jeff's probably going to show up at Kurt eventually."

"Nah, I'm good," Nick responded shortly, turning away.

Blaine frowned, looking at him. "Something going on between you two?"

"You're going to be late," Nick told him, "Don't keep Kurt waiting."

"Nick-"

"Go Blaine," he half-ordered, rising up. "This is about fixing Klaine."

Blaine eyed him for a moment, reluctant, but truly, he really did need to get going. The food coma induced from too much eating yesterday had caused him to oversleep. Cooper had flown out once he had realised that Blaine had not gone to Lima and had pulled together a fantastically bought meal for him, Blaine and Nick that they had enjoyed.

"We'll talk about this when I get back," he stated firmly, pointing a finger at him.

"Yes sir," Nick quipped, and Blaine chuckled.

"I'll see you when I get back, okay?"

"Yeah, keep me updated."

"I will. Later Nick," he bid, before rolling taking up his suitcase's handle and rolling it out the door.

"The house isn't going anywhere bud," Burt said with some amusement, glancing at Kurt strapped in beside him in the car. He was twitching his legs in that way that always meant that he was impatient.

"That stupid interview was supposed to have been over by three, dad," Kurt whined, "It went over by two hours!"

"That's because they wanted to get as much out of you guys as possible," he responded patiently, "and that interview didn't seem that stupid this morning when Mr. Kentwood called."

"Well that was before I knew it would go over," he tried to justify.

Burt snorted, recalling the way Kurt had come barrelling down the stairs that morning, his phone on loudspeaker with a shrieking Jeff even as he started babbling about one of Ohio's local news channel wanting an interview with them, and that since at least he and Trent and a few other of the club members were present in the state, they would go ahead and have it. That excitement though had quickly faded away once it was clear that the interview had first eliminated the possibility of Kurt being there to greet Blaine as soon as he stepped out and secondly was now cutting into the precious hours they were supposed to be having with each other - "We're down to 51 hours and 23 minutes together dad!" Kurt had hissed during a lull, much to Burt's amusement.

He understood where his son was coming from. If the death of his first wife had taught him anything, he knew that it was the most important thing in the world to treasure every possible precious moment you could get with the one that you loved because you knew ever knew when life would be cruel and take it away from you.

"We'll be there in seven minutes," he reassured him, reaching over with one hand to rest it on Kurt's still twitching thigh and squeezing it comfortingly. "Blaine's already there and settling in bud."

"I want to be there with him."

Some parents would have quickly lost patience with the whining of their child, but for Burt? He loved it...every moment of Kurt actually opening up and letting the world know that he was not all right rather than the morose silence that Burt hoped to never, ever experience again. And so, he just shook his head in fond exasperation and left his son to vocalise his thoughts without censure.

Soon enough, they finally pulled up into the driveway, and Kurt was out of the car before Burt had even fully turned off the ignition. "Have fun bud," he called out before laughing as Kurt shot him something resembling a wave before letting himself into the house. Following inside at a more sedate pace, Burt wondered if the two of them would even bother to come down for dinner.

He really should have bet Carole money, he decided. She had said that the two would probably be quite awkward with each other at first; he had said time would have fixed the worst of what was between them. If the way Kurt had barrelled into the house was any indication, Burt was pretty certain that a fight was not going to be in the making when Kurt got up into his bedroom.

His bedroom door was open, something that Kurt was grateful for, otherwise he was pretty certain it would have slammed back against the wall with the force he would have opened it with. That, as it turned out, was a good thing. Kurt had barrelled into the room, Blaine's name already half-shouted from his lips only to choke back the last syllable at the last moment in order to not disturb him. Because, after all this time of waiting, after urging his dad to just mash that gas pedal a little faster to get them home a few seconds faster, Blaine was asleep.

Kurt snorted at the irony of it, his eyes just drinking in Blaine's form curled up on one corner of his bed. He was in a fetal position, his knees pulled up towards his chest with his hands tucked beneath his left cheek. He had shed off most of his travel clothes from what Kurt could tell, as he was dressed in a simple pair of boxer shorts and a dark grey tee-shirt that Kurt didn't recognise. Stepping closer, Kurt noted that his hair was completely free of all traces of gel and that he had allowed it to grow out somewhat. Strange, his web cam had not pointed out that change to him. Almost gingerly, Kurt sat on the edge of the bed, letting his fingers ghost over Blaine's face, not quite touching the silky smoothness of his chin, hovering briefly beneath his nostrils to feel the warm puff that was his breath before he gently tapped on those velvety lips that quivered the slightest at the pressure. He risked bending and pressing a gentle, but oh so loving kiss to Blaine's forehead before he eased up the bed just as carefully with a sigh.

Blaine was here, safe in his bed, just where he belonged. All was right with the world, and Kurt sighed again, releasing the air from the bottom of his being, and with it, all the tension that had been within him.

Kurt sagged down into his chair, his eyes just drinking in his boyfriend's form. He didn't quite know what he had expected to feel when he and Blaine reunited...anxiety maybe, or even slight anger or resentment. But he didn't. All he truly felt was peace, happiness and overwhelming love for the college student sleeping across from him, his face lax. There were traces of dark circles beneath his eyes, the evidence of the amount of work he had put in recently, and Kurt reminded himself to bully Blaine into starting any future assignments a lot earlier to avoid this happening again. Finally, and just when Kurt knew that just sitting there staring at Blaine's sleeping form would be categorised as nothing more than creepy, Kurt rose and made his way into his adjoining bathroom, closing the door slowly.

He stripped before entering the shower, allowing the hot water to cascade over him while his mind wandered. The water was a soothing caress, but, if he were entirely honest, what he really wanted was the comfort of being enveloped in Blaine's embrace. It was what he craved, but, Kurt's mind, although acknowledging how great that would be, would not fully allow him to descend to the point where he could just exit the shower, dress quickly and allow that to happen. Things had changed since they had been in Dalton together, that little voice whispered to him. Although Blaine was still the main person outside of his immediate family in whose presence Kurt felt loved, protected and safe, Kurt didn't really need him in that all-encompassing way he had in the past anymore.

Shutting off the water, Kurt acknowledged that Blaine leaving for college had forcibly stripped away that layer of protection he had enjoyed, and, that supposition of safety had been eroded somewhat by Blaine's actions. He simply was not as dependent upon Blaine as he had been when Blaine had left for New York. Blaine had been his everything before that - he had been completely serious when he had told Jeff that he couldn't live his life without Blaine. But, if time - especially in the last two weeks - had taught him anytime, it was that, perhaps, while he did need Blaine, and perhaps always would, he certainly was not, or needed to be, the sun around which he orbited. And that, he knew, was not in any way, necessarily a bad thing.

Kurt tugged his pyjama top over his head, and within a minute had fully eased himself into it. Returning to his room, he fiddled around with the lotions, moisturising his face first, then played around with his hair for a bit. Finally, with his routine complete, he turned around, looking at Blaine who was now sprawled out a bit looser on the bed. Kurt's lips tugged in a small smile at the sight. He looked so innocent in that position. Additionally, from all the time they had spent together during this past summer, Kurt knew that that position meant that Blaine was asleep for the long haul. A week worth of stress from his assignment combined with the travelling had undoubtedly been too much for the older teenager, and had knocked him cold out. And though this was further going to cut into the little time that they had with each other, Kurt didn't feel any resentment. Indeed, he simply rose and pulled his curtains close, followed by the door, shrouding the room in relative darkness that twilight offered. Grabbing his phone, he settled into the bed besides Blaine, pulling up the blanket over the both of them. He had thought to spend his time playing around with apps or even Facebook, but, it seemed that the presence of Blaine beside him was too much. Within a few minutes he felt a tiredness descend upon him and he didn't fight it. Easily setting his phone aside, he snuggled down into the bed, humming contentedly as he put his head onto one of Blaine's arms using it as a pillow.

He allowed his eyes to drift close as he revelled in the scent that was uniquely Blaine, allowing himself to just be enveloped in his presence. He relaxed into it, and a shiver of pleasantness cascaded through him when, in his sleep, Blaine nestled closer to him, his other arm wrapping around Kurt and pulling him in closer. Even asleep Blaine knew that he was there, and that was the only thing Kurt allowed himself to dwell on in the remaining time it took him to descend into a deep, dreamless, but quite refreshing, sleep.


	10. Insecurities

The gnawing pain in his stomach was what finally woke Blaine up. He mumbled, and sleepily patted at his belly, urging it to behave because boy, was sleep the more preferable option right now. But, as it always did, the urge for food was greater, and, with a haggard sigh, Blaine opened his eyes in the darkened room, sleepily reaching for his phone to check the time given the relative silence about him. Nick probably had gone to sleep early for once but had left the television on if the muted laughter he was hearing from just beyond was anything to go by.

He sat up a bit straighter as the phone in his hand didn't immediately light up as he tapped where a button should be. He smiled and the sleep left him as he realised that it was Kurt's phone in his hand. He was here, home, in Kurt's room. He reached over the empty side of the bed to pull the chain on Kurt's lamp, half-prepared to find his boyfriend slumped over asleep at his desk. The room was empty though, and, checking the time, Blaine saw that it was a little after eleven - not particularly late for him anymore, but certainly for his boyfriend.

He heard it then again; the muted sound of laughing and a shrieked protest and he chuckled. What he had sleepily thought was the television was the Hummel-Hudson brothers in the midst of what it sounded like was a good tussle. Blaine hadn't meant to sleep that long; Carole had offered to fix him something to eat before she went on a couple of errands, but Blaine had settled for a sandwich, wanting to having dinner with all of them together. Too bad, he thought with a hint of remorse, they had probably decided to just let him sleep. He stood, and stretched his arms above his head in a bone popping move.

Deciding against disturbing the brothers, Blaine bypassed Finn's room and headed down the stairs for a late night dinner. His smile grew as he heard the television in the living room.

"Hey," he said in greeting as he rounded the corner. As he had have expected given what he had heard from the television while approaching, Burt was sitting on the couch looking at his favourite show with a beer in one hand and a bowl of chips beside him.

"Awake now Blaine?" Burt said. "You and Kurt were knocked out cold when I checked on you."

"Kurt was with me?" he asked, dropping down, and with a grin, reached over to snag a few chips from his bowl. "He's in Finn's room right now."

"He woke up about an hour ago," Burt told him, after taking a swig from his drink, "hungry like you are now I suppose. There's a plate for you in the fridge."

"You're the best Burt!" Blaine gushed, jumping up.

"Only because I'm feeding you," Burt said with a laugh, waving him away.

"That too!" Blaine sing-songed happily, the promise of a home-made meal appealing to him more than he would have thought possible. It was an adequate cook, but it wasn't the same as having a plate of warmed food to fill you up.

Blaine was nearly done with his meal when he heard a mildly amused voice speak. "I left my boyfriend safely asleep in my bed."

"Your boyfriend got hungry," Blaine quipped around a mouthful, making a contented sound when, moments later, Kurt's arm wrapped around his shoulders and his chin settled into his curls.

"I missed you," Kurt murmured, and Blaine paused long enough to tilt his head up to allow Kurt to kiss his forehead.

"I missed you too. I would greet you properly but..."

"The gremlins in your tummy must be sated," Kurt teased, releasing him with a last kiss. "Your mom sent Carole a pie recipe a while ago."

"Momma's special pumpkin pie?" Blaine asked, perking up.

"Extra special," Kurt agreed, heading for the fridge, "Carole ended up having to make a second one and sticking it in the crisper to ensure that it didn't get gobbled up too."

"Finn still anti-vegetables?"

"He's in a phase. Rachel's vegan conversion backfired royally."

"Are they back together?"

"For now," Kurt answered, shrugging.

He picked up and held a knife by the handle with his teeth, before carrying over the pie settled upon two plates.

"That is not safe," Blaine commented, rising up to take it from his teeth.

Kurt didn't bother to answer, instead quickly setting out the two plates before taking the knife from him and slicing into it. "Are you tired?"

"Currently no," Blaine said, after a moment's thought, "That nap will tide me over for a while yet."

"Same for me. I expect copious amounts of cuddles once we get back upstairs."

"Your every wish is my command," Blaine said gallantly.

"As it should be," Kurt quipped, before popping a bit of pie into his mouth with an impish look on his face.

"Come here you," Blaine bid, wriggling his fingers in a come-hither motion after Kurt emerged from his bathroom, "Blaine wants cuddles."

" _Kurt_ wants cuddles," he corrected, moving across to him before dropping down into his lap and snuggling closer, "you are just the facilitator to that demand."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Blaine murmured into his hair, his hands starting a gentle motion against his skin. "How are you?"

Kurt huffed, releasing his full weight back onto Blaine's, trusting him to take it, which he easily did. "Full. Happy. Nervous. Worried. Pain. Happy."

"Those are a lot of adjectives. Care to elaborate?"

"Full because we ate all that pie," he began, causing Blaine to snort in amusement. "Happy because we're cuddling. Nervous because we need to talk. Worried because Finn and the New Directions are performing tomorrow. Pain because my arm is hurting, and no I don't want to take any medication. Happy because you're here with me."

"Are you in a lot of pain? You hardly mention it to me anymore."

"That's because I don't want you to worry," he told him, "And despite my best efforts, you would the moment I told you that I was hurting."

"Are you hurting badly?" he asked, instantly on alert, something that drew a sigh from the teenager on his lap.

"No more than normal," he told him reassuringly.

"Have you been taking your meds as you're supposed to? I know I haven't really been checking up because Finn said he was keeping an eye on it, plus I didn't want to seem too pushy and..."

"Rambling," Kurt said shortly, twisting to put a finger on Blaine's lips to shush him. "I am fine. Trust me to know my limits Blaine."

"I don't like you in pain."

"I like the pain...in moderate doses," he amended, "please, let it be?"

Blaine nodded, mostly because he did not want Kurt to get angry with him, while making a note to check up on the pill bottles…just in case Kurt had decided that more than his pain medication was optional.

"That's your plotting face," Kurt noted, rolling his eyes before he returned to his previous position. "Finn left two tickets for Sectionals, just in case we want to go."

"Do you want to?"

"Yes," he murmured, starting to trace Blaine's knuckles with a finger, "but it's in McKinley."

"Oh."

"Yes oh. We'll decide in the morning?"

"That's fine," he agreed.

They were quite for several minutes, simply enjoying the pleasure of each other's company for so long after being separated for so long. Finally, Kurt stirred enough from the haze of comfort he was in to say, "I'm not mad at you Blaine," he murmured, "and I don't think that you cheated on me."

"You don't?" Blaine answered, stiffening slightly beneath him.

"Nuh-uh. I thought I was angry at you, but after a while, I realised that I was angrier with myself than anything else."

"What?" Blaine said, confused. Kurt grumbled in protest when Blaine's arms moved, lifting and settling him down beside him so that they could look at each other. "Why on earth were you angry with yourself? I was the wrong who did wrong."

"That's exactly why I got angry," Kurt responded, "because you think that you did something wrong. You just did what every other college boy would do. You went to a club, danced with someone and got...horny. There's nothing wrong with that, and the fact that you think that you did something wrong says wonders. I'm holding you back from the true college experience, and I'm sorry for that."

"Wow, wow, wow," Blaine said, grasping Kurt's shoulders, "I think you got it all wrong Kurt. You cannot blame yourself for what I did."

"You didn't do anything," Kurt hissed.

"I got aroused with someone that wasn't you Kurt."

"I know that Blaine. But it didn't escalate past that so it's fine, okay?"

Blaine lowered his head for several seconds, and Kurt reached over to rub at the light dusting of stubble on his cheek gently until he raised his eyes. Kurt sighed when he saw that his lashes were wet with tears, and he used his thumb to wipe them away even as Blaine gave him a watery smile.

"I had come here half expecting you to say that you didn't want to be with me any longer."

"Never honey," he whispered, bumping their foreheads together. "I think that there's some things we need to talk about, things that should change, things that _need_ to change, but I definitely, _definitely_ do not want to end what we have Blaine Devon Anderson. Do you?"

"No. You're my world Kurt."

"Perfect answer," he replied.

"God, I love you."

"I love you," Kurt told him softly.

They relished in that proclamation for a bit before, almost cautiously, Blaine spoke again. "You said that you were angry with yourself. I still don't think that I fully understand that."

"I'm holding you back."

"Holding me back how?"

It was Kurt's turn to lower his head, as he nipped his lip, wishing that he had not spoken that last bit after all. It was promising to lead the conversation down a very uncomfortable path.

"Poppet," Blaine probed, bending his head in an attempt to fix their gazes, "come on, speak to me."

"You know I cannot resist that name," Kurt protested.

"That's why I use it so sparingly," he teased softly, "now answer me Poppet. How do you think you are holding me back? You aren't by the way, but we might as well get to the root of this."

"Wasn't this about me reminding you of how much I don't blame you?" he said evasively.

"We've passed that already, I'd wager," Blaine answered, "we're still boyfriends who love each other dearly, so now let's work out our insecurities. Starting. With. Yours." He tapped Kurt's nose on each of the last three words.

"You have insecurities too?"

"Don't we all?"

"That makes me feel a bit better."

"Good. Now, from one insecure person to another, what's on your mind, Poppet?"

"Your life would be so much better if you didn't have to worry about me. I mean," he pressed on, before Blaine could interrupt, "the time you spend with me could be spent doing so many other things. You shouldn't have to worry about dirty dancing with someone, or getting home in time to Skype with me, or maybe even flirting back with those hot NYU students that exist no matter how much you say they don't."

"But I don't want to flirt with anyone else," Blaine said, slightly confused, "and why would I not want to talk to you?"

"Because you have better things to do!" Kurt ground out, "or you would if you weren't spending all of that time on me."

Blaine stared at him, trying to process what he was hearing. "Kurt, sweetheart, do you think that I don't want you? Is that what you're saying? That I don't want you in my life?"

"I'm saying that I'm too much in your life. You shouldn't have to deal with me and college. Don't you think I don't know that you would have finished that paper of yours ages ago if you hadn't been worrying about us? Maybe everything would have been easier if it wasn't for me."

"Are you serious?" Blaine asked incredulously. "Kurt, there is and will always be a place in my life for you."

"I don't think so. I'm just a burden for you."

"Why?" Blaine inquired, moving his hands to cup Kurt's face. "Kurt, why do you think I would find you a problem?"

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know why, Blaine. I just do."

"Have you felt this way for a while?"

He nodded as much as he could given Blaine's continued grip on his face.

"When did this start, Kurt? And why didn't you tell me?"

"Why should I tell you that I think I'm not good enough for you anymore? How was I supposed to say that you'd be so much better off forgetting about me and just enjoy college, huh? You would have just felt guilty and the least I could do was not inflict that upon you alongside everything else."

"How long Kurt?" Blaine pressed his voice rougher.

Kurt didn't answer, standing up abruptly. He reached into his side draw before withdrawing a thick, leathery book that Blaine recognised as a diary Carole had given him several months ago. He tossed it at him, and Blaine reflexively caught it.

"Late September," Kurt told him, turning away and heading to his bedroom door, "I'm going to make sure Finn's sleeping."

Blaine didn't bother to respond, knowing that Kurt was not going to offer him anything further beyond the diary in his hands. He didn't even really think that Kurt had wanted to say all those things to him, but it had erupted in the heat of the moment, and he didn't even know how to start processing it. What he could do at this moment was just read, and so he did.

 _Blaine didn't come on Skype last night. I waited hours for him. I could have texted him, but I didn't want to, because if he wasn't on Skype it means that he was busy and I didn't want to disturb him. Jeff says that Nick's already told him to not talk to him so much. Maybe Blaine's just too nice? I don't know._

 _I-I was just looking forward so much to showing him my hand and to hearing him say how proud he is of me. I made a fist, a fist! This is more than I ever thought I could do again, and I wanted to celebrate that with Blaine. Except, he isn't here. I_

Blaine snapped the book shut, unable to read further. Wiping a hand over his face, he set the diary aside and stood up, moving to where he could look outside into the cloudy sky. And here he had thought he was the only one with insecurities. It seemed rather ironic that their worries existed on the opposite edge of the spectrum. But god, how were they going to fix this?


	11. Finding Hope

They didn't resolve it that night. Kurt stayed away from the room for nearly an hour, during which time Blaine had thumbed through a few more of the entries, hoping that Kurt would not be too angry with him. He wasn't. When he had finally re-entered, Kurt didn't seem too interested in the fact that Blaine had still had the journal dangling from his fingers, and indeed, had done nothing more than drop down onto the bed before looking at Blaine pointedly, who, after a few seconds took the hint and joined him. Despite the light tension between them, within a few minutes, Kurt, with a huff, rolled over and placed his head on Blaine's chest, right over his heart, before closing his eyes.

Despite their late night, Blaine opened his eyes a little over six o clock, rubbing his hand over his face before sitting up, shooting Kurt a fond look. He had rolled away from him at some point, which made it quite easy for him to slip out of the bed and use the bathroom. Re-emerging a few minutes later, he looked at the bed, contemplating just snuggling back into the depths of the covers beside his boyfriend. The sound of something dropping from Finn's room followed by a bit off curse, decided the matter for him.

Snagging Kurt's spare robe (which suspiciously resembled the one he couldn't find while he had been packing for college) and pulling it on as he walked, Blaine went to Finn's room, knocking.

"Come in Blaine," came Finn's slightly flustered response.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked, closing the door.

"You knock five times," Finn told him, looking up from the pile of clothing he had scattered on the floor, "I didn't wake you?"

"I was up already, heard something fall and decided to investigate. What are you looking for?"

"My spare black shirt," he answered, starting to rummage through the pile again. "I sort of got mustard on the one we used last year and I didn't bother to get it cleaned and now's really not the time to be running laundry."

Blaine pursed his lips, resisting the urge to scold on Kurt's behalf. "I wouldn't think that it'd be in your tee-shirt drawer," he said instead.

"Did you see it recently?"

"Kurt re-organised. Haven't seen it since."

"Wasn't that in July?" Blaine muttered too himself, walking to the closet. He bypassed Finn's regular clothes in favour of the ones in the far end.

"Found my tie!" Finn declared happily, and Blaine snorted as he took in the condition of it. Finn could be so mature when it came to some aspects of his life that it was hilarious to see him floundering around like this.

"Success!" Blaine declared a minute later, pulling out the required shirt. "Make sure it fits," he bid, tossing it at him.

"I didn't gain weight," Finn protested, even as he started shrugging into it.

"You've gotten taller," Blaine retorted, dropping down on the edge of the bed and observing him. "It'll do," he decided. "A bit too short at the sleeves and hips, but the pants will hide it and I doubt anyone is really going to be staring at your wrists."

"Eh, we're still deciding on sleeves up or down," Finn told him. "I got to iron this."

"I'll do it," Blaine offered, extending his hand for it, "and the tie."

Finn gave him a wide grin, "You're the best, Blaine! I'll go shower by the time."

"I know. Are you eating?"

"No milk!" Finn called, half way out the door already, "I don't wanna risk puking!"

"Did you and Kurt work things out?" Finn asked a while later, around a mouthful of pancakes and syrup.

"We're still together if that's what you're asking."

"Told ya you were over-reacting," Finn smirked.

"Yeah yeah," he answered, sipping on a glass of juice, even as he wondered if he should have made Finn wear two napkins just in case of more spillage.

"Everything worked out?"

"Not exactly."

"Figured that," Finn admitted, "no other reason Kurt would have hid himself away in my room if you were here."

"He thinks he's burdening me," Blaine said shortly.

Finn stared at him for a moment before letting out a rueful laugh. "It's your turn huh?"

"What?"

"We've all gone through that phase," he explained further, his voice mildly consoling. "Ever so often he gets it in his head that he's too much trouble to deal with and we're all better off just leaving him to himself and going on with our lives."

"That's it exactly," Blaine responded, mildly relieved that it was not something isolated solely to him.

"I guess since you've left he's gotten a lot more insecure, but don't let it get you too down okay? He'll work his way through it. Just don't let him push you away."

"I wasn't planning on that happening," Blaine told him, "he's too precious to lose."

"And don't you forget that," Finn quipped, waggling his fork at him.

"I never will," Blaine responded sincerely. "Are you nervous for today?"

"Just the usual pre-performance nerves," he said after a moment's thought. "To be honest, the competition isn't that stiff. Once we do everything we're supposed to, we'll win, and then the real battle will begin. You guys coming?"

"Kurt hadn't decided. I'll ask him again once he wakes up. The muffins only have a few minutes left to finish baking."

"You should come back more often," Finn declared.

"To make you food?"

"Exactly!"

"Yeah well, if you keep up the flattery I might be persuaded to blow the dust off my mom's lasagne recipe."

"The one with four cheeses? Have I mentioned you're a deity among men?"

"And that will do it," Blaine said with a laugh. "I'll even throw in some double chocolate cookies into the mix for you."

"You are the champion my friend," Finn crooned, "and you'll be awesome till the end."

"Queen will sue you," Blaine told him with a mock-scowl as he rose to remove the muffins.

"I need to talk to you about something," Finn said then, "Something Rachel mentioned to me earlier."

"Oh?"

"Ain't got enough time to now, but it's about Kurt's college options."

"Seriously, that's all you're going to tell me?"

"Yup!" Finn responded with a mischievous grin.

"It's too bad," Blaine said with a smile of her own, "I really was looking forward to having some of those cookies, myself."

Finn's answer was delayed as they heard footsteps shuffling towards the kitchen. Both males smiled as Kurt walked in, rubbing one of his eyes even as he shot a sleepy glare at Blaine.

"I know, I know. You fell asleep with your boyfriend safely in your bed."

Kurt's grunt was the nearest thing to a reply as he headed for the pot of coffee Blaine had only recently made. "It's the weekend lil bro," Finn pointed out, "And early too. You can just steal fluffy head here, and go back to bed."

"Hey!" Blaine protested.

"You deny me cookies, Anderson!"

"The lasagne is now at risk too."

Kurt's jaw popping yawn delayed any rebuttal, and they turned to watch him. He didn't speak immediately; he took a long drag from a mug before he finally spoke up, his voice gravelly. "It's almost seven. We wouldn't have enough time to get ready if we went back to bed, and he," he stated, tilting his head in Blaine's direction, "didn't pack anything wearable. We'll have to rummage through the stuff you have stashed here, Blaine."

"We're going somewhere?" Blaine asked curiously, sharing a glance with Finn.

Kurt shot him a look that suggested that he was clearly being ridiculous. "You are taking me on a date this afternoon," he informed him, "so I hope you brought your licence cuz I'm not particularly in a driving mood. I already put in a booking at Mariano's for one, and we'll go to the lake afterwards."

"We're going to Westerville?"

"After Sectionals, yeah," Kurt told him, almost nonchalantly.

Both Finn and Blaine's eyes widened.

"What?" Kurt inquired, "I told you I'd decide in the morning. And I decided that I want to see you guys win live, so don't disappoint me."

With that he put down the now empty mug before heading towards the stack of pancakes.

"Well," Blaine said after a moment, "You heard the gentleman, Finn. You guys better win."

And luckily for Finn, New Directions did.

It was a little after three in the afternoon, and Blaine breathed in deeply, inhaling the crisp air of late November. Bundled as they were in long jackets, the occasional colder bite of the wind did nothing to perturb them besides leaving their noses pink. They had the area for themselves. Few people bothered to venture to a lake side in late Autumn and they were taking advantage of that, sprawled out as they were on one of the installed picnic tables. Occasionally, Blaine would turn his head enough to look at Kurt, laying quietly but peacefully beside him.

Briefly Blaine wondered if the Kurt of early that morning, the one who considered himself to be a burden had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination, given how...normal he seemed to be acting now, cuddling into his side, brushing his legs against Blaine and tangling them under the table during lunch amidst loving looks. But then again, he told himself, his mind drawing him back to Kurt's early days in Dalton, when he would miss multiple days of school for appointments or simply because he couldn't properly deal with the world. Perhaps that had just been one of those episodes? Blaine knew that he should address it, he truly knew that he needed to, but with just under a day left of his visit, he really did not want to break the peace between them.

"My mom met my dad while she was doing a semester abroad in France," he said instead, and felt Kurt shift slightly beside him, listening. "He himself was there for a year as part of a student exchange program, and mutual friends introduced them. They didn't hit it off at first, but the longer they interacted the more they grew to like each other. Except, they really didn't start developing feelings for each other until around the time when Mom had to come back to America. And then the real problem arose. An American woman and a British man fell in love in France back in the days when there wasn't cell phones or Skype. What on earth were they to do?"

"Lots and lots of letters?" Kurt guessed softly.

"Exactly," Blaine confirmed, "letters they have to this day. Dad finished school first, and, after a year, decided to head to America for his Masters Degree, and so they were reunited. Except, the next year after mom finished school, she got an internship abroad and had to leave. That's what happened for the next three years. They were still together, but inevitably always apart. And then Dad's father passed away, and just out of Graduate school he had to go back to England to take over the business; the curse of being the only child born quite late in life, and although Momma loved him and England, she didn't want to live there permanently. They parted, but they'd both still say that they never really considered each other to be broken up. It just didn't work that way for them. The letters and phone calls continued. Momma took a portion of her inheritance and established the company she runs today, and she was lucky enough to find a niche in a newly developing market and soon enough she was independently wealthy. Business started expanding and lo and behold, eventually she found herself on a business trip to, you guessed it, Britain.

"She and dad met up for dinner, and when it was time for her to leave, she just...couldn't. They conceived Cooper that night," he said with a slightly roughish grin, "although to her death Grandmother denies that, claiming that Cooper was just born extremely pre-maturely."

"She had to preserve her delicate sensibilities," Kurt teased.

"Mom didn't find out she was pregnant until a few weeks later, and when she told Dad, he flew out with a ring and a promise that distance be damned, they'd find a way to make this work."

"Well they're still married, so I guess they did."

"It wasn't easy," Blaine confirmed. "Neither of them wanted to move permanently but with their jobs they travelled enough that their parts collided a lot, and they made sure that at least a week a month they were together. Cooper was born here but spent a lot of his childhood in England. He alternated between being a boarder and a day student depending on mom and dad's schedule. After primary school he decided that he wanted to live in America, so momma enrolled him into Dalton's middle school. I was born his third year there but I've only really spent summers and a few Christmases in Britain. By the time I had come along, they had managed to co-ordinate their schedules so that at least their holidays' schedule collided, so the Anderson clan could be together.

"I'll admit it's not the most stable or conventional family structure or life, but it works for us and it works for them. Long distance relationships just don't seem like a lot of work for me, because I grew up with it. As long as the commitment is there, it'll work. It doesn't mean that I don't feel insecure at times."

"You feel insecure Blaine?" Kurt whispered.

"I do," he confirmed, "sometimes I wonder if you don't need me anymore. That you've grown so strong that I wouldn't be able to do any of the things I used to do for you. That I wouldn't be the one you turn to for help; that I wouldn't be the first one you think to talk to when you need something or just want to talk. That you'd decide that there wasn't a real space for me anymore."

"That's silly," Kurt stated, turning his head to look at him. "I'd never feel that way."

"Now you understand how I feel about what you said last night," Blaine answered softly, turning to look at him as well. "But it doesn't stop me from thinking it."

"Same here," Kurt agreed momentarily.

"But that doesn't stop me from loving you or wanting to be with you always, Kurt. Maybe you're right and there are things we need to change in our relationship, at least for now until you're with me in New York. But, there is no way that I am ever going to say that I do not want you with me and I am hoping with everything within me that you feel the same way."

"I do," Kurt said softly, his voice wavering slightly, "I do so much. It's just that I feel-"

"I know how you feel sweetheart. You've told me that and trust me I have listened. And truthfully, I don't know how I can stop what you feel or what I feel. Love and hope I suppose?"

"You know I don't hope in many things Blaine. Not since that time. It hurts too much to have your hopes and dreams crushed."

Blaine snickered slightly at that despite himself. "Name three things you hope or believe in."

"My family. You."

"A third thing sweetheart," Blaine pressed.

"Me?"

"Asking or stating?"

"Both?"

"I'll take that for now," Blaine allowed.

"I hope that I can help lead the Warblers to victory in both competitions next year," Kurt continued, "but I have no choice but to. The guys were so doubtful; I had to rally them to action."

"And you succeeded."

"Hopefully I will continue to."

"You will."

"I hope to be in New York with you this time next year."

"That's a beautiful hope."

Kurt swallowed then. "I hope we're still together five years from now. You'll be out of college then, I'll be finishing up. We'll probably be engaged by there because gay marriage will pass in all the states. We'll be happy. Everyone will be happy."

"I have those hopes too," Blaine admitted. "Except that I want fur-babies by then. I'm thinking at least two dogs, adopted from shelters."

"I want a cat.

"Then we'll have two dogs and a cat to rule them."

"And us," Kurt giggled.

"Exactly. See sweetheart, you have hope, and that's good. Hope is all that we can do as humans. If we lose hope, then why would we bother to go on?"

"You're right," Kurt decided. "Maybe hope isn't such a bad thing...in small doses."

Blaine laughed at that. "That'll do for now, sweetheart. One step at a time."

"So, do I have to remove my Klaine banner?" Jeff inquired, snagging Kurt's bag from his shoulder.

Kurt shot him an indulgent look, even as locked his car. "We worked out a lot of things. The banner can remain."

"So you're still together?"

"We are," he confirmed. "We changed up some of the things we had decided upon though. We're only keeping the Sunday afternoon Skype dates.B laine can go partying if he wants, but he's decided to limit any close contact dancing to the Dalton boys. And during our exam times or when we have a lot of assignments due, we'll make due with texts or Whatsapp messages and neither of us are to feel as if we're denying the other attention or ignoring them. We're also going to do letters, because…well, it's romantic. "

"Nice!"

"I'm still going to New York for New Years but we've cancelled our plans for his Spring Break. We'll have Regionals and the Accapella competition then anyway, so I'm going to be very busy."

"Sounds like you guys have everything worked out."

"It's a work in progress," Kurt amended, bumping into him, "but we're going to do this."

"Great for you guys," Jeff said softly, looking away.

Kurt stopped walking, and tugged at Jeff's blazer so that he looked at him. "I'll freely admit that I've been a bit preoccupied with Klaine drama, but now that that is all resolved, I can put my energy into something else."

"Like what?"

"Like you and Nick," Kurt said bluntly. "Now, let's start working on Niff"


	12. Jeff

Kurt glared at the blonde languishing on one of the sofas in the Commons Room. "You're avoiding me Jeffery No Name Sterling, and I won't stand for it a moment longer."

Jeff sat up, his mouth twisting stubbornly. "Well Kurt Elizabeth Hummel future Anderson, I was under the impression that this was a Council meeting to finalise the arrangements between us and the Lady Bugs for the Christmas concert. Trent said as much."

"Trent," Kurt responded, pausing so that Jeff could hear the definite click of the lock from beyond, "is in full agreement with this and will not be letting us out until I call him and tell him that you are all fixed. And, no, Jeff," he added, when Jeff shot a searching look at the window, "you cannot jump from the third floor."

"Someone's being a smart Alec," Jeff said sarcastically, settling on petulance for now. "Look, Kurt, there is nothing wrong with me, so let's end this right here."

"You ran away, _literally_ ran away when I wanted to talk about you and Nick. With my bag, I might add."

"Oh you got it back," he scoffed.

"You've started partnering with Phillip every day… not that he exactly minds."

"He minds a lot," Jeff protested, "the poor lad was heartbroken after you and Blaine reconciled."

Kurt stared at him in disbelief, because, from his point of view, Phillip experienced quite the opposite sensation when that news had spread around Dalton (although he had yet to find out how that happened). Indeed, Phillip was usually red-faced by the end of rehearsals these days, and not from tiredness. He was a bit amazed by how oblivious Jeff was to the younger boy's crush on him, but really, he didn't want him to be hurt in the long run, simply because Jeff was using him as an excuse to stay away from Kurt's probing questions.

"I'm pretty certain he'll survive without my company" Kurt deadpanned, not wanting to go into that for now. "Besides, he's not my concern right now, you are my friend, and I want answers. What is happening with you and Nick?"

"What makes you think something is wrong?" Jeff asked brightly. "We're fine. We spent the entire day texting."

"Jeffery."

"We're fine Kurt. We're friends, _best friends_ just like he wants us to be and everything is fine."

"So why can't you say that in a straight voice," Kurt asked bluntly, and Jeff swallowed, eyes widening as if he had only now realised that his own voice was wobbling.

"I've talked to Blaine about this, you know," Kurt pressed on, glad that he was finally, after an entire week, seeing a chink in that mask of humour that Jeff usually kept rigidly in place. "He says that everything's not exactly right with Nick either, but so far, he's taken a more hands off approach. But you're hurting; I can see that, and I don't want you hurting if I can help it. I care about you too much to see you in pain Jeff, so talk to me."

"About what Kurt?" Jeff snapped, all hints of joviality gone from his voice. "About how, unlike you, Nick doesn't have time for me? Doesn't _care_ to have time for me? You have it so good, you know? Blaine's loyal to you; he's kept up his end of the bargain. Nick's ignored everything we promised to do and I don't even think he cares. I'm always the one left behind, because of a stupid blip in the universe that's left me a year behind in school. And you know what's horrible? I don't think he cares this time. He doesn't care to try to keep that connection alive between us, all because I opened my stupid mouth, and I don't know what to do to fix it, so just drop it Kurt!"

Kurt stood there silently, allowing Jeff to vent the emotions he probably had had building up in him for a while now. He wasn't scared by his anger; Jeff didn't seem like a threat to him in anyway, indeed, he sort of reminded Kurt of an angered puppy - an animal in a volatile mood yes, but not one who could likely cause any real harm to those around them.

"What did you say?" he asked calmly.

"What?" Jeff inquired, blinking in confusion, obviously not expecting that sort of response from Kurt.

"You said you said something to him that changed everything," Kurt elaborated. "What was it?"

"I'm not going to tell you that," he ground out, but, from the tone of his voice to the pain in his eyes, Kurt had a pretty good idea of what it was. His mind drifted back to when Jeff had inadvertently commented on the complexities of love that afternoon under the tree. If Jeff didn't want to admit it, then he would leave him.

"I'll respect that...for now," Kurt stated, raising his hand in a placating manner.

The tenseness in Jeff's body faded immediately, and it was with an audible sigh that he plopped back down onto the couch. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," he said after a minute's silence.

"I'm glad you did," Kurt responded, walking over and dropping down on the couch beside him, "You've been bottling a lot of things up inside."

"How'd you realise?"

Kurt nudged him with his shoulder playfully. "I do the same all the time. And if there is one thing I learnt from Blaine's visit; it is not at all healthy. "

"Oh yeah? What helps?"

"Talking about it, either with people I trust or my therapist."

"And do you feel better afterwards?"

"Hell no," Kurt said with a laugh, "it's like picking at a wound."

"So why did you do that?"

"Because after it's irritated you realise the things you need to do to stop yourself from picking at it and slowly it heals."

"Well I don't think there's a solution to this," Jeff told him, pulling his legs up and dropping his head onto Kurt's shoulder.

"Yeah, but at least the universe knows, and I know, so I can help."

"There's nothing you can do Kurt. And please, don't say anything to Nick."

"I won't tell Nick anything," Kurt promised. Blaine however, was an entirely different matter, he told himself.

"Come over this weekend?" Jeff requested, nestling closer. "We can have a marathon, eat popcorn and talk about things that have nothing to do with Nick."

"That's fine, Jeff," Kurt agreed, "are your grandparents here?"

"Nah. Business trip."

"You Warblers and your privileged family lives," Kurt teased, "your families are hardly ever around."

"The suffering the wealthy face," Jeff mock-groaned, throwing a hand over his head, causing Kurt to laugh. "I think you have it the best out of all of us sometimes, Kurtsie," he admitted. "Your family is always around. Boarding school is great and all, but sometimes when you go home, you wish it isn't to hired help or an empty house. No child of mine is ever going to experience that," he finished decisively.

"So no Dalton or County Day for future Sterlings?"

"Day student status only," Jeff confirmed. "Now come on, enough of this future garbage. Let's decide what we're doing for our weekend!"

"Okay."

"I can't believe it's snowing so much," Kurt said, as he stared out of one of the floor to ceiling windows in Jeff's house. "It was so light when I got here."

"It's all a part of my grand master plan," Jeff declared, adopting his most menacing expression as he approached. "The snow will fall and you will be trapped here with me forever and ever!"

"Master Jeffery is being ridiculous," a lightly accented voice stated.

Jeff flushed, and looked at the far corner of the dining room, where Mrs. Smith, house-keeper for the Sterlings since long before he had been born eyed him with amusement, her hands hovering over the display she had been creating of different desserts for the two teenage boys.

"I didn't see you there," he said with slight petulance.

"Does he act as goofy in school, Mr. Hummel?" she inquired.

"All the time."

"Traitor!" he stated loudly, pointing accusingly at him.

"Be nice to your guest Master Jeffery," she scolded him as she crossed the room, her shoes clicking on the polished, wooden floor, "or I will have him keep my company for the evening instead."

"Yes ma'am," Jeff agreed, because he knew better than to question the woman. She was a woman of her word, and unfortunately for him, she and Kurt got along ridiculously well.

"Don't let him take advantage of you now," she said to Kurt as she reached the door, "Master Jeffery tends to take his games a little too far at times, especially when he knows his grandparents aren't around to keep him in check."

"You're making me sound like a brat."

"You are," she replied, before leaving them alone in the large room.

"She's always so mean to me," Jeff complained, although in a complete contradiction to his words, he all but skipped to Kurt, wrapping his arms around Kurt's right on before peering out into the gloomy afternoon weather. "Wow," he whistled, "my master plan is going extremely well. You would have been stuck here even if you hadn't planned on spending the weekend with me."

"You are ridiculous," Kurt told him, although he reached up to ruffle his hair. "Now as much as I love watching snow, I am hungry, and the spread Mrs. Smith made for us looks absolutely delicious."

"Are you here for the company or the food?" Jeff asked.

"A bit of both," he dead-panned before pulling and walking away. "Is that lamb chops, I smell?"

"Kurtsie," he groused, following him at a slower pace, "You're supposed to be amusing me."

"After you've fed me I'll give you all the amusement you want."

"Ooooh! Food time then!" he half-shouted enthusiastically, grabbing the plate from Kurt's hand and starting to pile food on it, while Kurt let him be with fond affection.

Aside from a text or two to Blaine and Finn, the pair largely adhered to the no technology to the outside world rule Jeff had (arbitrarily) created. After a movie, during which Kurt spent more of his time laughing at Jeff's attempts to guess the plot lines ahead of time, and two episodes of Doctor Who, Jeff stood abruptly.

"You took any meds today?"

"No," Kurt responded, even as he wondered at the question.

"Good. So we can safely be illegal then," he said with a grin.

Kurt's eyes widened at the proclamation, especially when Jeff made a bee-line for the liquor cabinet.

"Woah Sterling," Kurt said, "What are you doing?"

"We are going to up this party tonight."

"We're only eighteen."

"Which is the legal age in so many places around the word," Jeff answered. "Now I know you're the goody-goody two shoes kind, so I highly doubt you've have had anything stronger than a beer, but tonight's the night to rectify that."

"Jeff..."

The blonde turned around, a bottle of barrelled rum in his hands. Their eyes met, and held for a moment, before he sighed. "Okay Kurtsie, I'm not about the peer pressure life. Do you want some?"

Now that Jeff seemed a bit more rational about the whole thing, Kurt felt as if he could give the matter a bit more thought.

He had sampled alcohol before, but really only at home and under his father's rather indulgent supervision. He really didn't see the appeal of it in large quantities but he was well aware of its so called benefits. Which made him wonder why exactly Jeff had decided to incorporate alcohol into their previously perfectly PG night.

"Do you have beer?" he asked, deciding that he could compromise on this. "And how much trouble are we potentially going to get in for this?"

"Next to none," Jeff said with a shrug, putting down the bottle before heading for the mini-fridge. "Granddad doesn't care as long as I don't touch the really old stuff and what Grandma doesn't know won't hurt," he finished impishly. "There's Smirnoff."

"Red?" he asked hopefully.

"You're drinking a Black," Jeff informed him, standing with it. "Oh relax you," he bid, as Kurt joined him in the bar area, "We've had full meals and way too much popcorn. And this is glorified kid's stuff. You'll be fine tomorrow."

"But will you be?" Kurt rebutted, watching Jeff's transformation into a bartender as he started compiling a drink for himself that seemed to have a ridiculously high alcohol to juice ratio in his opinion.

"Life isn't fair, so it'd be okay, if I follow along with it for a little bit."

Kurt didn't respond to that. He didn't know how to.

The pair eventually settled back down onto the couch together, Jeff putting Youtube on the flat screen that neither of them particularly paid much attention to. Jeff seemed too engrossed with his drink, and Kurt, Kurt was just waiting for what he half expected to happen. Jeff was halfway through his drinks when it did.

"I told Nick that I loved him the day before he left," he said softly one finger running along the rim of his glass, "am in love with him I mean. I figured this was it, that movie moment people go through. I'd tell him finally that I loved him, he'd respond in kind and that'd be it. We'd spend a year pining for each other, I'd come to NYU too and we'd be set for life."

"What did he say?" Kurt questioned softly, putting aside his mostly full bottle.

"He never answered," Jeff said with a slightly hysterical laugh. "I told him I loved him, he stared at me for a moment, and then he said he still had some packing to do. And he left. I got a text from him two days afterwards stating that he had arrived safely in New York. Things have never been the same since."

Kurt could only look at him with an expression akin to pity. He didn't have a clue as to how he would have reacted if he had been in Jeff's position.

"Have you ever brought it up to him since?"

"How could I?" Jeff asked him, "he heard me. He heard me and chose not to respond. I've been too humiliated since to even try bringing it up. I just try to act normal you know? Hitting him up every few days, reminding him of the plans we'd made before I opened my big, stupid mouth and ruined everything, but Nick's been so unresponsive to me. I think he hates me now."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Well he definitely hates what I've done to our friendship," Jeff responded, downing more of his drink. "Don't worry," he said with a huff, as he caught Kurt's stare. "I've been drinking for a while now. I'm not going to turn into a blubbering mess all over you."

"Why do you drink?"

"To be happy," he said sarcastically.

"Jeff."

"Because it dulls it, okay Kurt? I've been hurting so much since that day and there's no one I can talk to about it. You've got Finn, your family and all your old school friends to talk to about Blaine if you need to. They're independent of the situation."

"Me? I'm surrounded by Dalton boys Kursie. Have been my whole life. There's not a damn soul I know who doesn't know Nick. Kind of hard to complain about Nick acting like a douche to me when half of them are probably just going to roll their eyes and say that it's just the usual post-Nick separation anxiety I go through every time Nick goes on ahead of me. That's why I'm telling you. You're the most removed person from this entire situation that I know. I'm telling you that I'm not okay, and it's getting harder and harder as time goes by to pretend it is. Our families always have Christmas celebrations together. Grandad and Nick's dad went to school together and were the best of friends."

"What?" Kurt asked, thoroughly confused, and wondering if this was now the alcohol talking.

"That's a story for a different day Kurtsie," Jeff told him. "This story is about how fucking awkward Christmas is going to be because there is no way either of us are going to get out of this. Imagine how it's going to go. Nick, pass me the ham. Oh by the way, do you still hate me for loving you?"

"That will be awkward," Kurt agreed.

"I'm trying to come up with way to get out of it. Find someone with something contagious like chicken pox."

"Or maybe you can tell Nick that you really want to clear the air between the two of you before Christmas."

"Not. Gonna. Happen."

Kurt took his Smirnoff up and took a generous swing from it to buy himself a few moments to think. He nearly choked on a mouthful when Jeff closed the already small distance between them, looking at him with slightly glassy eyes.

"The best solution I had managed was to somehow end up in a relationship before Christmas, love be damned. But all the Dalton gays are taken and girls are just not worth the hassle."

"They're not all taken," Kurt corrected, a particular red-headed Warbler coming to mind.

Jeff mumbled something indiscernible and dropped his head down onto Kurt's shoulder, knocking aside Kurt's bottle and pushing him down so that he was half-lying on top of him.

Kurt wriggled his arm free and wrapped it around Jeff, starting a soothing caress at the base of his scalp.

At this point he was simply hoping that the alcohol would have a greater impact on Jeff than he believed could, rendering him asleep. Kurt could wriggle from under him and settle down on one of the other couches then while still being able to keep an eye on him.

Thankfully the laptop was on auto-play so as the time dragged by, it didn't become too boring for him. Kurt had just about decided that Jeff was out for the count when Jeff sighed and shifted, looking up to meet Kurt's eyes.

"You're the best," he stated, and Kurt was mildly surprised by how normal his voice sounded now. Jeff patted his chest, as if in thanks before sitting back up, Kurt following him. "I'm thirsty," he said, rising. "Don't worry, just juice this time," he reassured him as Kurt's eyes widened. "I'll bring you a glass too."

Kurt nodded, and decided to use the time in the interim to go back to the window. The land around the house (because it was too vast to be called a yard) was illuminated enough by a series of lights that Kurt could still observe the still falling snow. Kurt chuckled as an absentminded thought about a snow-day floated around his mild. Now that was definitely the Smirnoff thinking, he acknowledged. The semester was ending in a little under two weeks. He would have all the time in the world to relax then...well in between college applications.

Lost in his train of thought, Kurt didn't hear Jeff approach until he was right behind him. He jumped when his arms wrapped around him and his chin settled on his shoulder.

"Hey you," Jeff murmured.

Kurt smelt alcohol a bit stronger on Jeff now, and his brows furrowed. "You drank more," he said plainly.

"I drank more," he confirmed. "Your juice is on the table though, perfectly untainted as you prefer."

"We should get you to bed," Kurt suggested, as Jeff sagged a bit against him. "I rather not lose my place of honour with Mrs. Smith."

"Forget her," Jeff ordered with a huff, pulling back enough so he could tug at Kurt, turning him around, "let's talk about you and me."

"What about us?"

"Why did you have to make up with Blaine, Kurtsie?" he inquired. "You guys are relationship goals, but couldn't you have held out a little longer? You'd have been the perfect excuse to use against Nick."

"Sorry?" he offered even while he continued to tell himself that this was just the alcohol talking.

"Things never go my way," he bemoaned.

"You know, Phillip has a crush on you," Kurt informed him, "not all the gays as you put it, are taken."

"Phillip likes you," he said gruffly, shooting him a mild glare, "don't try to distract me."

"From?"

"I'm lonely Kurt," he half-whined and Kurt resisted a small smile, because, drunk or not, that was the adorable Jeff he knew.

"Come on," he bid, "let's get changed and go to bed. It's been a long night."

"It's been a long life," Jeff corrected, looking at him.

This wasn't one of their usual eye contacts; Kurt knew that instinctively from the way Jeff's gaze lingered on him. He stepped back, breaking the look and Jeff's grip on him, and ran his hand through his hair. "Come on drunkie," he said, but Jeff didn't respond.

Indeed, he took a step closer to him. "Why won't you love me?" Jeff asked, and Kurt felt every bit of the pain in his voice. "What did I ever do to make you treat me like this, Nick?"

"Jeff," Kurt said cajolingly, "let's get you upstairs."

"I love you," Jeff repeated, reaching out.

Kurt froze as Jeff's hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to him. Kurt swallowed, unsure of what to do. He wasn't stupid, he had a fair idea of what Jeff could be angling for with the position they were in now.

"Jeff," Kurt tried, "let's go upstairs n-"

Kurt's words cut off as Jeff moved in closer, his face close, so close to his.

"I love you," Jeff whispered, leaning towards him.

Jeff was hurting pretty badly, he told himself. That and the alcohol in his system had pushed him to this, a desperate drive for affection and validation of his worth. And so, Kurt didn't resist when the distance between them closed and Jeff claimed his lips in a slightly sloppy, but wholly emotion laden kiss.


	13. The Next Day

"We need to talk," Blaine said plainly, walking into Nick's bedroom, his phone dangling from his hand.

"About what?" he asked curiously, looking up from his laptop. "The fact that that bowtie doesn't really go with that shirt?"

"My bowtie is fine. What is not fine is this situation between you and Jeff."

His friend scowled, returning his attention to his computer. "I told you I don't want to talk about that."

"Yeah well, when my boyfriend calls me saying that Jeff kissed him while murmuring your name, I think we do need to talk about it."

"He did what?!" Nick said, gaping.

"You heard me," Blaine ground out. "Now Kurt's with Jeff who finally wrapped up his dues to the porcelain god and cried himself to sleep because you don't have the balls to answer him."

"You can't blame me for this," Nick protested, setting the computer aside.

"I can blame you for being one of the causative factors. I've watched you ignore Jeff so many times this semester Nick, and I've asked you about it and you keep blowing it off. Now, I want an explanation because Kurt and I are now directly involved. Kurt told me what Jeff said. He told you he loved you and you just walked away? What kind of dick move is that?"

"I'm not gay Blaine," he shouted, "what else was I supposed to do?"

"Tell him that," Blaine shouted right back, "sit and talk to the boy you've literally known his entire life and tell him that you don't look him in the same way. You should have done that years ago, dammit."

"I didn't realise loved me like that," Nick said, in a softer tone.

"Bull," Blaine countered, "that's absolute bull Nicholas. You knew Jeff was in love with you. You've always known. _We've_ always known. For a while we figured you were just sorting out your own feelings. But when you realised that you were straight Nick, when you were absolutely certain about it, you should have told him."

"Yeah well it wasn't the easiest conversation to start Blaine," Nick answered, dropping down onto his bed. "There's no way I could have turned him down without ruining our friendship and that's the one thing I don't want to lose."

"So instead you send him into the bottles for comfort," Blaine said, before clapping sarcastically. "Congratulations Nick, you're a genius."

"Blaine."

"Look Nick," Blaine said, cutting him off, "you're my best friend and I love you. But you've messed up here, and you need to fix this. Jeff is hurting, and I really hope you give enough of a damn about him to fix it before it's too late."

On that last, decisive note, Blaine stormed back out of the room. He flopped down on his bed, feeling a bit better now that he had gotten that out of his system. He hoped that between the realisation of what Jeff had done and Blaine's ire against him, Nick would finally be spurned into action so that the rift between the two friends could finally be fixed.

The deluge of snow had ended by the next morning, something Kurt was infinitely grateful for. The room was chilly, but not unbearably so, and so, with nothing more than an extra sheet wrapped around him, he settled into the rocking chair that Jeff's room surprisingly had, starting a gently rhythm as he went through the messages between him and Blaine sent over the course of the night. He didn't at all feel bad about the fact he had broken his promise to the blond, but truthfully, if Blaine had not yelled at Nick, he would have ended up calling him and letting go some Priscilla-level anger on him.

It had been a horrible night. Scarcely had they broken apart from the kiss had Jeff broken down into horrible, gut wrenching sobs that had somehow eventually led to them on the floor of Jeff's bathroom as Jeff's body rid itself of everything. Getting him showered and into bed was a task in itself after that, made worse by the fact that Jeff had never quite stopped crying. The last thing Kurt had managed to do, as per Blaine's instructions, was to force Jeff to chug down a glass of water, an act he repeated twice more during the course of the night in order to stave off the worse of a hangover Blaine had concluded that he would definitely end up with. Kurt was still hoping that his boyfriend was wrong about this. He really didn't want Jeff to be in any more discomfort than he was already in. He also kind of hoped that he didn't recall much of the night past the start of their drinking. Kurt really didn't hold the kiss against him, but he didn't want to add any more awkwardness to what Jeff was already fearing.

Kurt passed his time messaging his parents and Finn, carefully editing the events of the night, until, eventually, when he was just about to get really worried, a low groan erupted from the bed.

"Morning sunshine," Kurt greeted, decided upon normalcy.

"Shut off the cheerful," Jeff protested as he sat up, rubbing at his skull.

"Headache?"

"Not really," he answered, after a moment's thought, "more like a dull ache. That's new actually."

"Well I did force water into you," Kurt explained, crossing the room and sitting down on the bed bedside him. "Mrs Smith said you're grounded by the way."

"She found out?"

"Well you were retching rather loudly and I didn't have time to go down and repack the cabinet."

"Remind me to order her some roses," Jeff muttered, swinging his legs off the bed. "Bathroom," he added, stumbling off towards it.

He was in there a while, long enough for Kurt to recall what Mrs. Smith had told him the night before. He called her house extension, and within ten minutes she entered the room with a trolley. Kurt snickered at the volume of greasy food she brought up, hash browns, buttered toast, sausages, and bacon among other things. He would certainly enjoy the meal, but he was pretty certain this would be torture for his friend.

"I can be very evil when I need to be," she told Kurt with a wink, as she walked away. Kurt was pretty certain though that she heard her say, mostly to herself "I'll not be losing a second one" before the door had fully closed.

Kurt stored that statement away as something else to inquire about at a lazy time.

Breakfast was admittedly hilarious with Jeff refusing nearly everything with painful groans as the smells assaulted him. Kurt vaguely recalled Carole threatening to do the same to Finn one time, and it was definitely a method he was going to store away for future reference.

"Feeling any better?" he asked, still nibbling on a piece toast.

"Yeah, the I wanna die feeling is already gone," he answered, sipping at some juice. "You did good, Kurtsie. You can be my wingman in college!"

"I rather not have to do this again," Kurt admitted.

"I'll keep that in mind," Jeff said gallantly. "So are we going to address the elephant in the room or not?"

"I hope you don't mean that statue over there."

Jeff guffawed, "Didn't know you had it in you," he praised. "But no, I don't mean Trunks. I mean the fact that I kissed you."

"That did happen."

"Oh I know that," Jeff said. "Now tell me, was that the best kiss of your life?"

"Jeff!" Kurt gasped.

Jeff's roughish grin faded. "Right, now that the ice's been firmly broken, I suppose I can actually tell you that I'm sorry that happened. As you probably realised, I was in a bit of a mess last night. If you want me to tell Blaine, I will."

"Blaine knows already," Kurt informed him.

"And how dead am I?"

"Definitely not dead," Kurt said, reassuring him. "Blaine understands, and so do I, so no worries there okay?"

"Oh I wasn't worried," he said jovially, that grin of his firmly back in place. "Well maybe I was slightly worried that you'd decide that you preferred the Jeff Train than the Blaine Express."

"Stop it," Kurt said in exasperation, throwing a bit of bread at him.

"You wish I hadn't," he retorted, waggling his eyes suggestively before finally, relenting. "I'll behave," he promised. "But seriously, Blaine didn't give you any flack right?"

"None," Kurt confirmed, "I think he was more worried about you than anything."

"Which means Nick probably hates me more."

"What?"

"You told Blaine that I got drunk and kissed you. You probably told him everything actually. Blaine would have gone straight to Nick."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," Jeff answered. "You did the right thing. I was a mess back in middle school. Blaine would have gone into protective mode the moment he was done taking to you. That would explain the millions of missed calls and texts on my phone from Nick."

"What did he say?"

"Haven't read it yet. I already ruined our night, I'm not going to ruin the fruits of my labour with more depression. We have more Doctor Who to watch today."

"You did not engineer that snow storm Jeff. You are not that good a scientist."

"Oh Kurtsie," Jeff declared playfully, "you should never underestimate the level of my creative genius."


	14. Hold My Wrist

A/N: Drabble scene from Blaine's visit that couldn't be successfully integrated into it.

* * *

It was mid-morning on Sunday, and Kurt resisted the urge to sigh as he looked at the clock. It was almost eleven and Blaine had to leave by three to ensure that he got back to New York in time. Kurt nuzzled a bit against his thigh, closing his eyes. He made a soft, pleased sound when one of Blaine's hands dropped on top of his head before running gently through his hair, tugging on bits occasionally.

"I hope that book is sufficiently boring," Kurt murmured eventually, drawing a laugh from his boyfriend.

"I've got two pages to finish the chapter. I'm just glad I remembered I needed to read this. I would have been unprepared for my group discussion in the morning."

"Should have hid the Kindle."

"You're cranky when I'm ignoring you."

"Very," he answered with a pout, "now hurry up so I can have all the attention I deserve."

"You have the soul of a cat," Blaine pointed out, before quieting.

Kurt, as he inevitably did when he had idle moments, turned his attention to his hand, amusing himself by the feats he could now manage, wiggling his fingers, clenching his hand into a fist, and even managing to bend his wrist a bit.

"You are reading those two pages very slowly," he said eventually.

"I finished a while ago."

Blaine's voice had an odd quality to it that caused Kurt to turn a bit so he could look up into Blaine's face. Blaine's eyes were drawn to his hand, with fingers still absentmindedly twitching.

"I've gotten a lot more control now," Kurt said, reluctantly raising his head off Blaine's lap, moving so they were facing each other. "Let's play a game."

"What game?"

"Hold my wrist and then put my hand against your jaw line."

"Oddly specific instructions," Blaine pointed out, before chuckling when Kurt stuck his tongue out at him.

"Do it."

"Yes sir," he quipped.

Kurt watched with slight amusement as Blaine carefully lifted his hand, pressing it gently in the spot Kurt indicated. "Close your eyes now." Once he did, Kurt started to run his fingers up and down against Blaine's cheek, his own eyes falling close to increase his sensitivity.

"Your skin is soft," he whispered, "but you need to shave."

"You like my stubble."

"Hush you, don't interrupt me."

Kurt's searching fingers crept up higher, and, Blaine's grip on his wrist adjusted to allow for the movement. Kurt carefully ghosted over Blaine's eyelashes, long, curved and thick and up to his triangular eyebrows, a bit coarser. He reached down to run a line down Blaine's nose, giggling when a finger mistaken reached a bit up his nose. He lingered longest on Blaine's mouth, his perfect, perfect mouth. He drew a line over his top lip, and tapped gently against his bottom lip for a moment.

"Blaine!" he gasped out, before laughing as Blaine parted his lips and chomped gently at the end of his finger. Opening his eyes, he met Blaine's amused gaze. He sucked on the digit for a moment before releasing it, and then carefully lowered Kurt's hand.

"I am very proud of you."

"I am very proud of me too."


	15. Conversation with Rachel

"Kurt, we need to talk," Rachel declared, seconds after she put down the tray for their order onto the table. "As your friend it is my duty to prevent you from making, what I believe, is a terrible, horrible mistake."

Kurt waited until she had seated herself to respond. He had expected something like this from the moment when, rather wryly, Finn had come to his room to tell him that Rachel had not, as he had first assumed, shown up at their house to surprise him. Finn could only watch sheepishly as Kurt had been all but marched from his house into Rachel's car to the Lima Bean.

"What's this all about Berry," he inquired, popping a bite of his muffin into his mouth. "It's way too early for this to have anything to do with Sectionals. We haven't even found out the theme as yet."

"No," Rachel said pertly, "this isn't about our future altercation as enemies on opposite sides of the metaphorical floor, Kurt. This is about you and the decisions you are making with your life."

"Okay, then," Kurt said. "Tell me then, Miss Berry about my seeming errors."

"Are you, or are you not in the process of doing your college applications?"

"I am," he confirmed, "as I hope you are."

"I finished my application for NYADA long ago Kurt," she said pertly. "I submitted it the day applications opened."

"Congratulations," he said mildly. "Where else are you applying?"

Rachel gasped, that loud and appalled one that had caused Kurt to roll his eyes many a time back in the choir room. "There is no other place Kurt," she hissed, leaning forward. "I am going to NYADA. To apply to any other school would mean that I am doubtful of my dream, my _destiny_."

Kurt stared at her even as his mind raced. Was she that crazy or that vain? He recalled his freshmen year, newly friended to the soon to become insufferable Rachel Barbra Berry who had introduced him to the concept of NYADA, the elitist performing arts college in New York, that, for the musical theatre program, took only twenty students in a year. With those odds against her, Rachel seriously was only going to consider one school?

"Everyone needs a backup plan," he told her mildly, "and if you're set on New York, Tish has an awesome Theatre program as well."

"It's NYADA or nothing Kurt," she huffed, sitting back and folding her arms across her chest. "I thought you of all people would understand that."

"I've spent the past two years in what amounts to a college prep school Rachel," he reminded her. "Excuse me from looking at this from a rather practical approach."

"This is exactly why I brought you here Kurt," she said triumphantly, smacking her hand down on the table, "Finn told me that you were applying to colleges, and you're not applying to NYADA."

"Why would I?" Kurt asked honestly, "There's no way in hell they'd even consider me with this useless thing," he said, gesturing to his arm. "I'm being practical."

"You love the Theatre Kurt," Rachel pressed, "we were going to perform on Broadway together."

"That was a wonderful dream," Kurt allowed, not allowing his mind to dwell too long on the memories trying to arise. That was a bitter pill he had swallowed long ago and finally, but reluctantly digested. He didn't need to go back there. "It is a dream that no longer can become real. I have new things to strive for now."

"A journalism degree?" Rachel scoffed, "that's what you're aiming for? I couldn't believe it when Finn told me."

"There's nothing wrong with a journalism degree," he said mildly, "I've settled on studying that, fashion and communication. I've always loved fashion."

"You've given up Kurt," she snapped, her tone despairing. "You can't tell me that you've given up on acting."

"I have," Kurt told her firmly, "it's not feasible and I'm not going to waste my time aiming for the impossible. I've spent a long time trying to figure out where I wanted to go once Broadway was taken out of the picture. I can't draw anymore; my left hand just doesn't have the skills and no one knows how complete this recovery will be. So I'm going to go into the other things I'm good at. Most of the colleges I'm going to apply to facilitate linkages between their fashion program and their graphic designing ones. That's also a good option for me."

Rachel pursed her lips at him, a sure sign that she didn't agree with what he was saying but didn't really have any rebuttals to use. "You're only applying to schools in New York and its environs," she said next.

"I'll probably throw in Ohio State as a last option if I have the time," Kurt said with a shrug, "but yeah, I'm New York bound."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"If you're not going to go to NYADA why are you bothering with New York? Go to LA instead. Isn't the fashion industry better there?"

"Blaine's in New York," he said simply.

"And if Blaine was in LA would you have considered schools there?"

"Yes," he said simply, as if the answer should have been obvious.

"My point has been made!" she declared, and Kurt found himself grateful that at this point in the day, the shop was mostly empty, otherwise other patrons would have been complaining about her.

"And what's this point?"

"You're only going to New York because of him. He's probably the one who convinced you against applying to NYADA. Just because he decided to abandon the stage for a business degree -"

"Blaine's going to declare a joint minor in music and performance art," Kurt interrupted, but Rachel pressed on, ignoring him.

"You've decided to tailor your dreams to his. Kurt, as you friend and a thorough professional, I need to tell you that you're wrong. You cannot let something as simple as love affect the decisions you make Kurt. Love is beautiful, but it's plainly clear to me that your relationship with Blaine is deluding you to reality. You need to be prepared to sacrifice for what you want, and if Blaine is pressuring you into attending NYU just to be with him then I think you need to reconsider this entire relationship of yours. There's a time and a place for everything, love including, and in this, our senior year, love should be the furthest things on our mines."

Kurt looked at her, his eyes icy as he processed her words. "What are you going to do about Finn then," he asked darkly. "Is he holding you back?"

"I had this conversation with Finn already after Nationals last year. I told him that is there was ever a time he became too much of a liability, I would have to end our relationship for the sake of my future career."

"You called my brother a liability?" Kurt said, his tone level. Finn had certainly not told him that titbit, and definitely not their parents either or else there was no way in hell Rachel would have been let back into their house. "Told him that you'd leave him at any time?"

"I did," she confirmed, "There is nothing I will not do to ensure my future Broadway success. You should be thinking the same way."

"I rather lose everything I have and live in a cardboard box in an alley way if it meant that Blaine was right there besides me," Kurt told her. "I would not give up Blaine for anything in the world, _anything_ , even my career. That is obviously something you cannot understand. You're the one who's delusional Rachel, not me, and if this is truly how you feel I suggest you break up with Finn now and spare him the fucking heartbreak later. Not that that is going to happen because I am going to have quite a conversation with him once I get home myself."

"I've said nothing wrong," Rachel defended.

"And that's the scary part. You don't even understand how screwed up what you're saying is. Are we done here Rachel? I really just want to go home."

"You're making a big mistake," Rachel reiterated.

"Sure, whatever you say," Kurt grated out, rising, "just take me home now will you?" I have a conversation that needs to be had immediately, he added to himself.

His wry amusement at the intricate workings of his brother's relationship had now completely faded. He needed to get him out and over Rachel as soon as possible for his own sake.


	16. Things Fall Apart

Kurt stared around Blaine's apartment with wide eyes. "This is yours?" he asked with awe.

Blaine chuckled, and pressed a kiss against his temple. He set Kurt's suitcase beside the door; there wasn't anything in there that couldn't survive a bit longer without be hung up, he rationalised. "This building has been in my mom's family for a long, long time," he explained. "It was the original location for the company, but when my grandfather inherited it, he converted it into living quarters for the family. Momma leases out a few of the lower floors, but these top few are used exclusively by us. Momma and dad have the highest one, followed by Cooper and then mine. We'll be ringing in the New Year on the rooftop."

"Being rich has its benefits," Kurt said with an appreciative whistle.

"It does," Blaine agreed, carefully removing Kurt's coat from him.

"I mean your house in Westerville is great, but this, this is _amazing_."

"That was the original house that great great whatever granddad's built after he struck it. Its a sort of tradition to not mess with it outside of repairs, a kind of remembrance of where the Andersons came from."

"Anderson is your mom's maiden name?" Kurt asked, dropping down onto the cream coloured couch. "I feel like I should start learning these things. And how could you not move into here?"

"Mom never took on dad's name," he confirmed. "She let dad give his name to Cooper, but passed on Anderson to me. As for me not moving in here, Nick and I always had a weird desire to live out one of those college movies, so we dormed for this year. I'm not sure what Nick is going to do next year, but once you're here with me, this will be our home."

"I love the surety in your voice," Kurt murmured, resting his head on his shoulder.

"You're still thinking about what Rachel said," Blaine guessed, reaching out to lace their fingers together on Kurt's lap.

"I think Mercedes told her I was coming here cuz she sent me a link to Taylor Swift's song "Fifteen" this morning and said to focus on the bridge and where Taylor is now."

"That girl," Blaine groused. "We will be fine, Kurt. Rachel is Rachel. You are you and I am me. She is willing to sacrifice love for her career. Could you ever see yourself doing that?"

"Never," he answered, emotion lacing his tone as he watched him. "You are the most important person to me."

"Same here."

They sat in silence a long moment. "What are you going to do with Nick?" Kurt asked. "I mean you guys still aren't back to normal."

"I am giving him a taste of his own medicine. Let him see what he's done to Jeff."

"I never meant for that to happen you know," Kurt murmured, "disrupting you and Nick's friendship."

"Our friendship will be fine, Poppet," Blaine said, reassuring him, "we've been through worse together. Nick is a good person. You've seen that yourself, but he just does stupid things sometimes and this thing with Jeff is one of them. He's done painfully little to rectify the situation so far, and you've yourself said that Jeff's not been completely fine since that weekend. I'm hoping that my lock-off plus the awkwardness of Christmas together will push them in the right direction."

"Jeff hasn't really been responsive about that. I hope they're both okay though. This situation is so sad."

"They'll fix it sweetheart. We just have to have faith in them."

"Yeah, hopefully you're right. Anyway, enough of that for now, what are we going to do on our first night together?"

Blaine looked at him for a long moment, before shaking his head amusedly at how quickly he changed the topic. "Well first thing we should do is get that ring off that chain and back where it belongs."

Kurt nodded, and kept still as Blaine suited words to action, and soon enough his right hand sported their promise ring.

"Perfect," Blaine murmured, kissing his hand. "As to our plans for the night, if you go into the guest bedroom you will find a suit waiting for you."

"A suit?" he repeated, interested.

"A very gorgeous patterned navy blue suit," Blaine described, "one that seems perfect for where we are going to go."

"And where is that?"

"Mmm, well there's show on tonight. On a very famous street that you mentioned wanting to visit. This show is pretty old but it has received rave reviews."

"You have tickets for Wicked?" Kurt squeaked, sitting up straighter.

"We have tickets for Wicked," he confirmed.

Kurt launched at him, and Blaine laughed as his face was peppered with kisses. "You are too good for me," Kurt said eventually, pulling back.

"Nah, I'm just good enough," he answered with a wink.

Kurt was almost giddy with his happiness as the pair stumbled back into Blaine's apartment. Beside him, Blaine sported his own grin, partly due to the great night they had had, but mostly from the infectious joy radiating from his boyfriend. Briefly Blaine's mind flashed back to the morose Kurt he had first met, grateful for the changes time had wrought in him.

"My version of Defying Gravity has now been slain and laid to rest in the dust," Kurt stated, flopping down onto the couch.

"I still think yours is the best," Blaine answered, joining him there after slinging both of their jackets over the back of a chair. "We should make this a tradition. At the end of every semester we'll go to a production to celebrate."

Kurt scooted around until he could rest his head onto Blaine's lap, looking up into his face. "As long as we venture onto Off-Broadway too."

"And Off-Off Broadway. We'll support all the arts."

"Like good cultured men. Dinner was great as well. Only you would take me from Broadway to some random street corner for food."

"Was that not the best hotdog you have ever eaten?"

"He was parked next to a drain, Blaine."

"That gave it extra flavour," he quipped.

"Eww Blaine," Kurt chastised, wrinkling his nose at him.

"We'll go exploring for food tomorrow after I show you around campus. We'll get the choicest of the street fare and come back here and pig out."

"I will not have a pudgy belly for New Years Anderson."

Blaine smirked, before eliciting a laugh from Kurt as he started poking at his stomach through his shirt. "Seems perfectly flat to me. Oh, and is that an ab I feel?"

Kurt wriggled away from the poking finger. "No abs yet," he answered when finally Blaine ceased. "When do your parents get here?"

"Day after tomorrow. Mom's threatened Cooper so he's sacrificing some grand party to be here as well"

"Cooper probably has a next party he could attend here."

"And we're invited to it," Blaine confirmed, smirking.

"Eh, I am not going to face your mom's wrath. You go party and I will cream your folks at Monopoly again."

"Dad downloaded an app. You won't be able to steamroll them this time around."

"I are tycoon!"

"No more Cow and Chicken marathons for you."

"You're lame."

"And you are my adorable poppet," Blaine told him sincerely, drawing a flush to Kurt's face at the tone of his voice.

Blaine helped him rise up before stealing a sweet kiss from him, cupping his cheek gently. "I love you," he whispered, pulling back.

"I love you too," Kurt returned, pecking him once more before snuggling into his arms. "I hope you know I'm not sleeping in that guest room, gorgeous though it be."

He felt Blaine's form shake with laughter. "I'm just giving you the option sweetheart. Don't think I didn't see the edge of that sleeping bag poking out from under your bed when I was there."

"I don't know why dad even bought that thing," Kurt huffed, pulling back, "but I wanted to leave the option for you."

"Same here."

"Oh."

"Yes oh, silly," Blaine stated, flicking his earlobe before gently easing him from him. "What do you say we get comfy and watch some Netflix? Unless you're tired?"

"Just one episode," Kurt decided, stretching. "You better have popcorn in this fancy place...the buttered kind at that."

"Of course spoilt one."

"I prefer pampered," he preened. "I want orange juice too. Hop to it Anderson, or else you're be sleeping on this admittedly comfy couch."

Blaine shook his head at his boyfriend's antics, but humouring him, obeyed.

"I wonder how mad Kurt would be if I just showed up in New York," Jeff muttered to himself, pacing his bedroom floor anxiously. He was completely over this holiday season already and there were three more days before Nick and his family left. He was actually considering doing it. He could sneak out here, buy a plane ticket once he got to the airport and be safely in New York in a few hours. His grandparents would get over it. He could lie and tell them that hearing Nick gush about NYU had excited him too much to wait and he left to see it in person. He'd done stranger things before.

Except, he was pretty certain that Kurt would kick his ass for interrupting what probably was going to be his last days with Blaine until the summer, and as much as he was cursing anything associated with love, he couldn't do that to his friend. "I could just book myself in a hotel somewhere," he mused, his eyes dropping to his bed. He had managed to smuggle a bottle of liquid courage up here, but really, he didn't want to do it. All of the old folks had gone to the country club for the afternoon, and he had disappeared long before Nick had decided what he was going to do with his afternoon. Maybe he had gone with them. He really hoped he had gone with them.

He was startled out of his musings at a knock on his door. "I'm fine, Mrs. Smith," he called out, "not doing anything illegal, I swear."

The door swung open, and Jeff turned, trying to plaster a cheerful look on his face, only for it to falter when he saw Nick standing there.

"Another thing's changed then," he stated bitterly, "you never knock."

"Well I wasn't certain whether my best friend privileges were still active."

"Are we?"

"Are we what?" Nick asked, closing the door.

"Best friends. Are we anything?"

Nick sighed, leaning back against the door. "I'm not sure what we are," he admitted, "but I would love if we could at least not be awkward."

Jeff scoffed, mostly to hide the tumultuous feelings rolling through him. Nick had been in his room countless times over the years, but, especially in the past year or two, Jeff had envisioned their time here spent very… differently. This was wholly unacceptable to him. Things would have been so much better if he had not tried to force fantasy into reality.

"Are you just going to stare at me?"

"I cannot be sober for this shit," Jeff declared, walking away.

"You really have taken drinking back up huh?"

Jeff sneered at him as he rose from his crouch, bottle of scotch in hand. "Why do you care?"

"Are you cutting too?" Nick asked bluntly. "You've been wearing sweaters since I've been here."

"It's winter," Jeff snapped, dropping heavily down onto the bed and started fiddling with the cap of the bottle. "And why do you care?"

"I rather not see you back under psychiatric watch Sterling."

"Well I don't care about what you rather see. If you have a problem with this," he said, gesturing at the now open bottle, "go away. You did that perfectly before."

Nick didn't say anything as Jeff took a generous swing, forcing himself not to sputter at the taste of it. He was tempted to take a second swing, but knowing that his grandparents would kill him if he couldn't come to dinner, he closed it, shuddering as the heat of the scotch pooled into his stomach.

"You're still here?" he noted, after returning the bottle to its hiding place. "Isn't there someone you could be talking to?"

"I think I'd rather be speaking with you right now."

"Why? You did a hell of a good job ignoring me before."

"I-" Nick hesitated, and glancing at him, Jeff saw that he was rubbing at the back of his neck, always a sign of his sheepishness. "I-I handled that badly Jeff. I'll willingly admit to that."

"That's a fucking understatement if I've ever heard one," Jeff snapped. "I don't want to talk to you."

"We need to talk though," he rebutted, finally moving from the door, and closer to him. "You've been ignoring me ever since you kissed Kurt. I've been worried."

"And I was worried when you just walked away from me and got on a plane."

"I panicked."

"And left the state!"

"What do you want me to do, Jeff?" Nick demanded, his own tone rising. "Out of the blue you just said that you loved me and was looking at me so expectantly. What did you expect to happen?"

"For you to say the same."

"I'm not gay Jeff," Nick told him, "and you know it, you _know_ it. Did you think I'd throw my sexuality out the door for you? That I'd suddenly want you?"

Jeff didn't answer; he couldn't. Nick's words. They were just too cruel. Nick deflated, his emotions receding at the expression on Jeff's face. He mentally swore as he recalled his last words. "Jeff."

"Get. Out." Jeff ground out.

"Jeff-"

"Get out!" Jeff screeched, his eyes wild. He reached for the nearest thing to him - a book - and flung it in Nick's direction. Nick dodged it, barely, but he heeded Jeff's directive, backing out of the room in the face of his fury. He had screwed up royally, and Jeff would, unfortunately, be the one paying for it, if the sounds he was hearing was anything to go by.

"I-I don't understand," Kurt whispered, looking up at Blaine, his expression pained. "How could this happen Blaine? He was fine when I talked to him yesterday."

Blaine didn't answer immediately. Instead he tucked the blanket a bit more firmly around Kurt before sitting next to him after ensuring that their cups of herbal tea were reachable.

Their day of exploration had been wonderful, but their merriment had ended abruptly when Blaine's phone had rung off a few minutes after they had returned to the apartment. It had been Nick, a very despondent Nick telling Blaine that Jeff had been admitted to a private hospital and would he please tell Kurt to call him because Jeff wanted to speak with him. Kurt had immediately run off to the bedroom where he had forgotten his phone that morning, to indeed see that there was a missed call from Jeff followed by a rather cryptic text telling him not to worry, and that he was fine, something that was obviously not true if Jeff was under observation. He knew that term well. It was a fancy way of saying they were ensuring that Jeff wouldn't and couldn't hurt himself.

"I think I told you last night that Jeff had it rough in middle school?"

"You did. But what does that have to do with-"

"Easy poppet," Blaine bid, interrupting the rush of words. "I will veto your decision to not take an anxiety pill if you work yourself up, okay?"

Kurt nodded, even though he didn't like it, forcing himself to take a deep breath and dampen the worry for the blonde.

Blaine eyed him for a long moment, and satisfied, spoke. "You know that Jeff lives with his grandparents. What you don't know is that they're not just his legal guardians. They adopted him when he was five."

"Adopted him? What happened to his parents?" Kurt asked, even as he realised that he had never heard him mention them, nor truthfully seen any signs of them in the pictures littered about Jeff's bedroom.

"It's...complicated and when Jeff himself found out the truth...he didn't take it too well. You see, as weird as it sounds, Jeff didn't realise until he was ten that his grandparents were...well, his grandparents. They never told him, and save his hair, Jeff has all the Sterling features, so there was never really any doubt to his belonging to the family. In the middle school there's always this project about family heritage and when Jeff started digging around for it, he found his birth certificate and his grandfather's name wasn't there. His son's was.

"Jeff's dad from what I've heard was the anti-Dalton student. If it wasn't for the fact that the Sterling family has been one of the main financers of the school ever since it was created, Dalton would have kicked him out long before he entered the high school. He ended up getting a girl in Westerville High pregnant in his freshman year."

"Wow," Kurt breathed.

"The girl's parents came to Dalton when she told them, and the school contacted Jeff's grandparents. They were furious that he had put them into that position and thought that the girl's family would try to extort money from them because of it. And in a way they did. They turned down the suggestion of marriage, something Jeff's grandfather apparently wasn't too keen about anyway. They would take money though, so that's what he did. He paid them into giving Jeff up once he was born."

"He paid her to give up custody?"

"He paid her to sign over all her rights," Blaine corrected. "He gave her family a lump sum of money and paid for her way through college. The only stipulation was for none of them to ever try to contact Jeff. Jeff's grandparents were nearing forty when he was born."

"And Nick is his parent's youngest," Kurt deduced, "that's what he meant."

"Not sure what you're saying sweetheart."

"Forget it. Tell me more. What does all of this have to do with today?"

"I'm getting there," Blaine promised. "Jeff's grandparents took care of him while his dad finished Dalton but his granddad was considerably harder on him after that. He loved Jeff, but he was living proof of how reckless his son could really be. But nothing ever really worked, and as he got older, Jeff's dad ended up involved in drugs and alcohol. He actually ended up dying of an overdose a few weeks short of graduation and his grandparents formally adopted Jeff as their son. I guess it was their way of having a do over. They failed with the father, they could try with the son. Jeff never found out all of this until that project, and honestly I don't know if they had ever planned on telling him.

"He confronted them, they told him the truth and it seemed that everything was okay with that. Except...Jeff couldn't let it go. It was gradual, I'll admit. He stopped calling them mom and dad, and he grew more and more...cheerful, but cheerful in a way that didn't make sense given what he was going through. And then one day Nick told us that Jeff had somehow found his birth mother and wanted to meet her. He promised Nick not to tell his parents and he essentially ran away."

"That didn't go well," Kurt guessed.

"She didn't want anything to do with him. Even if she had cared for him when she was a teenager, him showing up spooked her, and not in a good way. She was in graduate school at the time and well...from what we found out, it seemed the only thing she cared about was proving to Jeff's grandfather that the situation wasn't her fault and that she didn't void their agreement by initiating contact."

"She didn't care to see him. She was worried about her tuition money getting cut off."

"Exactly," Blaine answered, sadness radiating in his tone. "Jeff's grandparents went out and brought him back to Westerville. He started cutting himself and drinking a few days later."

"Blaine."

"I know poppet," he said consolingly, cuddling him close. "It's not an easy story. They were determined not to make the same mistake twice and Jeff spent a lot of time seeing shrinks and being in and out of the hospital. I think they actually pulled him out of school for a bit, but we had already moved on from the middle school so I can't be certain. By the time I transferred back into the Dalton system Jeff seemed better. That cheerful science loving Jeff was back."

"Nick rejecting him triggered his old behaviours."

"Yes. And from what Nick told me, he inadvertently said something that set Jeff off. Jeff locked everyone out his room and went on a rampage to say the least. By the time they could get to him, he had hurt himself pretty badly and they decided to hospitalise him for now."

"He sounded so weird on the phone."

"That'd be the drugs," Blaine guessed, "he may not even remember talking to you in the morning."

"Speaking from experience?" Kurt said ruefully, recalling their early days.

"Just a bit," he agreed.

"I knew something was different about him," Kurt said, his voice wavering, "I saw it that night. He just didn't look like himself. I didn't realise he was hurting so bad."

"You couldn't have known it," Blaine comforted, "and maybe I should have warned you, but really, until now, I didn't think it was my story to tell. It's why I wasn't upset when you told me the two of you kissed. Jeff's done crazier things to ease his pain. That was a mild action at most."

"I didn't stop him because I thought it would help."

"And did it?" Blaine inquired, even though he already knew the answer.

"It did. He broke down once we parted."

"Exactly. Jeff needs help. I think he managed to fool everyone into believing he was okay. And maybe he truly was until Nick started acting like a dick. Whatever the case, he's going to get the help he needs this time around."

"I want to be there for him," Kurt declared. "I know what it's like Blaine. I want to help him."

"And you will," he agreed, kissing his temple. "I think that's one of the reasons Jeff was drawn to you in the first place. He was always curious about you, and he became very protective once I graduated. You'll be good for him, in the same way he's been good for you. I want to tell you don't worry, that Jeff will be fine, but right now, I can't say that with full certainty."

"I'm scared Blaine," Kurt admitted.

"You're not alone there, Poppet. I think we're all a little but afraid for him."


	17. Scheming

"Everyone is treating me like I'm a fragile bit of glass," Jeff complained, even before Kurt had fully reached him.

He didn't answer immediately. It was the second day of the new school term, and though he and the blonde had talked frequently since his...breakdown, it had been the first time since then that they had met in person, given that Kurt had had to miss the first day do to a few appointments. He had been a bit worried; Jeff had pointedly avoided any mention of his day when Kurt had called him the previous night, instead peppering him with questions about the new regime for his physical therapy for the upcoming few months.

Seeing Jeff like this was painful. He just looked wrong, and, when they were close enough, Kurt allowed his bag to fall from his shoulder as he extended his arm. Jeff, thankfully moved into the embrace, and Kurt, to the best of his ability, held him tight against them, breathing in that slightly fruity scent of Jeff's shampoo and the solidness of his form.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured, squeezing a bit tighter when Jeff rubbed his back.

"I'm glad you're here too," he answered, pulling back enough so their eyes could meet.

Kurt sought to understand the emotions in his eyes. There was fatigue there, a deeply rooted tiredness that Kurt deduced had nothing to do with physical discomfort but rather a weariness of life. He could see hurt and pain there, alongside a smidgen of happiness that he hoped his presence was generating. Jeff broke the gaze but Kurt's lips twitched when he kissed his cheek before pulling back, reaching down to pick up his bag.

"Trent's not here?" he asked, eyes looking around for their tall, burly friend.

"Probably giving us some alone time," Jeff mused with a shrug. "Now Kurtsie, we've got to come up with some sort of contingency plan here."

Kurt allowed Jeff to wrap his arm around his waist and lead them into the building, the weather chasing them indoors. Thankfully though, the earliness of the morning left the recreation room largely empty, and while Kurt indeed saw that people's eyes followed them, he could detect nothing but curiosity and concern. At the end of the day, the school population really did consider each other family, and if one person was not okay, everyone looked out and after them. It was both annoying and heart-warming at times, and so, Kurt could sympathise with Jeff's frustration. Neither spoke until they had claimed a small table, Kurt amusedly allowing Jeff to make them each a cup of hot chocolate that they sipped on in easy silence.

Eventually their cups emptied, and a lot of the students cleared from the room, heading for class. Kurt and Jeff started the day with a study period, and though, technically they were supposed to report to the library, experience had long shown that the teachers were pretty lax about that fact. As long as they kept opened books on the table, any wandering teacher would leave them be.

"Blaine sent a few things for you," Kurt told him, "they're in my car. I was thinking we could head out for food after school and you could bring them back here after."

"Sounds good," Jeff answered. "What did he get me?"

"Bags of chocolate, the latest Percy Jackson book and a few new games for your PS3."

"Is he trying to get on the Jeff Train as well? I've never considered polyamory..."

"You wish Sterling." They laughed for a moment. "We're going to have a busy term, you and I."

"A terribly busy one," he agreed. "I wonder which one of us is going to have the most therapy sessions this year. We should start a tally. Winner gets a lap dance."

Kurt snorted. "I am completely ignoring that statement. Did you finish all of your safety college applications?"

"I have a few left to do," he responded with a shrug. "You?"

"I've been procrastinating on the Ohio State one. I don't want to put that out into the universe at all, but..."

"But?"

"I haven't told Blaine this, but...my therapist thinks I should consider going there part time or else deferring New York for the year."

"Why?"

"She thinks if I can put all of my energy into therapy I may see quicker results."

"Please tell me you are not seriously considering this? You need to get the hell out of Dodge, Kurt."

"I know that. I _want_ that. I have to admit though, the possibility of healing faster is appealing."

"She's probably just trying to keep your business," Jeff groused, crossing his arms. "Family excluding, what does Ohio have left to offer you once you've graduated? Finn's applying to New York schools as well right?"

"A few," Kurt said, "but I think he was doing that just to satisfy Rachel."

"He'd come for you though."

"I know that." Kurt sighed. "Look, I'm pretty certain once I get accepted into a school I'm heading to New York. I just don't want Blaine to know about it, because he may decide it's for the best. And now that I've shared a deep, personal secret that you are not to breathe a word of to anyone, I think it's time you return the favour."

"You're crafty!" Jeff hissed, and Kurt shrugged a shoulder coyly.

"Come on now Sterling. I share, you share."

Jeff perked up slightly. "Are we really doing this?"

Kurt's suspicions were immediately aroused and he was pretty certain that he would pay for this game of his, but if it got his friend to talking...it would be worth it hopefully. "Yes, I swear. Your secret?"

"Despite what Nick thinks, I've really stopped cutting. I haven't done it in over a year."

"That's good."

"My turn. Did you and Blaine do the dirty?"

Kurt could feel his face heating up. The Cheshire grin on Jeff's face said it all; he would make this conversation equally awkward for the both of them.

"Come on Kurtsie, quid pro quid. How was the horizontal tango?"

"There was no dancing," Kurt admitted, wondering if his face could darken further, "everything remained above our respective northern borders."

"Boo," Jeff complained, "what are you guys waiting for? Your wedding night?"

"I do believe it's your turn."

"Avoidance huh? Fine. Remind me to give you the talk one day. I'm on anti-depressants now. The same kind you have for your really bad days, which I suppose is my every day. Medicine buddies have now been added to our titles," he finished with an attempt at cheer.

"We aren't really in any rush to have sex. I'm don't think I'm ready for that yet, and I really think Blaine has some left over issues with Priscilla he's still working his way through."

"You really should have punched that bitch."

"I wish I did."

"Well hopefully whenever you two do it, hopefully it's magical. My first time wasn't."

"You've had sex before?" Kurt asked, slightly incredulous.

Jeff chuckled at that. "Please don't tell me you're firmly in the no pre-relationship sex camp?"

"I'm not," he admitted, "once it's safe and consensual do what you want. I'm just a bit surprised."

"It was the summer before high school and one of the maintenance guys had brought his son for the day. Grandma's pretty cool about that, and I was bored so we hung out and well, by the end of the day I was legs up in the air."

"Jeff," Kurt groaned, at his crassness.

"Don't worry, he was over the couch after. Equal opportunity you know."

"Let's end this discussion," Kurt requested, suiting action to word by pointedly turning his attention to his textbook. "Mrs. Sanders is probably going to unleash a pop-quiz on us. Let's go through some equations."

"You are very much avoiding this conversation, but fine Kurtsie, let's not disturb your delicate senses any further...for now."

Finn was having a pretty good day by his standards. The football league had announced the divisions for the quarter finals and they were actually up against teams they stood a chance of beating. Glee practice over lunch had been fun as well. Rachel for some reason had skipped practice and Mr. Shue had been preoccupied with something so that the practice had just degenerated into a jam session which was always good. And now, freshly showered, he was off to meet his mom at Breadstix for a mother-son afternoon of fun.

Well it had been going well, he amended, as he saw a tiny brunette standing in front of the pickup he and Burt had spent a considerable part of the summer putting together for him.

"What do you want Rachel?" he asked without preamble as soon as he was within hearing.

He had to admit, what Kurt had reported to him had hurt...hurt a lot, especially when he considered that he had been willing to do anything for the girl in front of him. But deep inside, he had known it, knew that that was the person she was. He just hadn't wanted to see it. But, with Kurt's relay of her words ringing in his ears, Finn had firmly forced his love for her aside, and, indeed, had vowed against forming any new relationships for the time he had left in high school. He had known it for a while now. He was over all the petty drama that came along with high school and the people that went along with it.

"Finn," she began, nodding her head at him, "now I know we have had our differences recently, but I think that this is too important."

"If this is about Glee club you can tell it to everyone tomorrow," he stated, and moved to walk around her, mentally sighing when she stepped into his way. "I'm serious Rachel. The last thing I need right now is Santana accusing us of plotting to take over the glee club again."

"Santana is just jealous of the fact that I am vocally superior to her in every way and that we complement each other perfectly. Such chemistry as ours cannot be replicated on stage by anyone else and she should just admit and acknowledge it."

Finn took a deep breath, asking himself for patience. "What do you want?"

"You're going to Kurt's little acapella show this weekend aren't you?"

"Obviously. It's important to him."

"And," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "since he's one of their leaders I am correct in assuming he has a key vocal role in the performance?"

"What are you getting at?" he asked, suspicious.

"Answer me."

" _You_ answer me."

"I will take your reluctance as a yes. I want you to record the performance when you go. Give it to me Monday."

"What the hell for?" he demanded, patience running thin now. "If you're asking me to spy on Kurt the answer is hell no, Rachel. I can't believe you're even asking this."

Disgusted, he moved to pass her, this time determined to lift her out of the way if needed.

"I'm not asking you to spy," she stated, talking quickly as he unlocked the door to the vehicle. "I'm quite knowledgeable of Kurt's vocal quality and it is no real threat to me. I want it to add to the application I'm filling out for him."

"What?" Finn inquired, staring at her in confusion, "what application?"

Rachel shot him a triumphant look. "Kurt is clearly too delusioned with Blaine to realise that he is wasting his potential. I therefore am going to apply to NYADA on his behalf. A copy of his performance should be enough to make them curious about him and then they'll convince him that he needs to be there with me."

Finn stared at her for a long moment not even sure where to begin. "Kurt is going to go to New York University with Blaine as he has planned."

"Kurt is better than being some menial journalist!"

"And who are you to decide that?" Finn snapped. "Are you even doing this for Kurt or have you finally realised that you've burned nearly all the bridges you have and are trying to trap him to you? Do you think he would be grateful to you if you do this? Which, by the way, you are not going to do if you know what's good for you. Stop meddling in people's lives Rachel, and do what you're best at. Focus only on you."

With that, Finn got into the vehicle, slamming the door shut. Thankfully Rachel had the sense to move aside. Fuming, Finn drove away. If he had looked back at her he would have caught the look of frustration underlying with determination on her face.


	18. Preparations

"Let's get this meeting started guys," Trent bid, smacking the gavel down. He reached over with his free hand to swat at Jeff when he snickered at the action. He was not trying to imitate Wes, but truly the distinctive sound was the easiest way to draw the attention of a roomful of teenage boys.

"Are we going to talk about Regionals today?" one of their younger members, a freshman named Louis asked.

"Yeah, lets!" a few agreed.

From the corner of his eye, Trent saw Kurt smile, and he could understand why. Last year such interruptions would have been unheard of, none daring to interrupt the council as it was bringing the meeting to order. They truly were inspiring change. "We are," he confirmed, smiling himself when a few cheers went around the room.

"Did they announce the theme yet?" Phillip asked.

"Well I would say it if you guys gave me a chance," he retorted, his voice teasing.

"Unfortunately for us single folks," Jeff said, speaking up, "the competition organisers don't know that it is quite passé to celebrate things after the fact."

"Our theme is love," Kurt said quickly, diverting attention to the rather harsh edge to Jeff's tone. "And, as Jeff was leading into, we have a bit of a problem to wrangle with with this theme."

"We need to find some original way of depicting this rather overdone theme both in our songs and in our choreography," Trent finished.

"Who's the third team," someone asked.

"We're going up against New Directions and The Renegades."

"They sound dangerous."

The group shared a laugh at that statement.

"We got the figures from the last competition as well today," Kurt stated, waving a print out in the air. "While we should not discount The Renegades as a threat, I'm pretty much certain that it's going to come down to a fight between the Directioners and us. We came out with the highest scores overall from all the Ohio sectionals competition-" Kurt broke off as they all cheered.

"They're presenting us with a trophy for that at Regionals," Jeff pipped up, resulting in a new wave of cheering.

"But," Kurt continued, after order had somewhat been restored," New Directions came in third behind Vocal Adrenaline."

"That's good isn't it?"

"It is and it isn't," Kurt said honestly. "Now, you guys know I was on their team when I was in Mckinley and I'm going to be brutally honest here. Rachel Berry is the one to beat on that team vocal wise, and they did not utilise her to full potential at Sectionals. I am telling you that their vocal scores would have been a lot higher had they given her the usual solo and main female lead roles. Mr. Shue is going to risk the group's ire and give her these said roles this time around."

"How did our vocal scores look?"

"Twenty five out of thirty," Jeff said. "Vocal Adrenaline beat us there. They got twenty seven. New Directions got twenty one."

"What we definitely got them beat on is choreography," Trent added. "We scored a solid ten points over them there. We notched out Vocal Adrenaline by one point in that regard and crowd response put us over the edge. I hate to say it guys, but overall we beat Vocal Adrenaline by just two points. And while we had a rather comfortable victory margin against the New Directions, if Kurt is right, and trust me, I remember the whitewash we collected from them in the last Regionals well, we are in for stiff competition. We need to work as hard, if not harder than we did against Vocal Adrenaline."

"We don't have the element of surprise on our hands anymore," Kurt agreed, a bit saddened at the subdued look on the boys' faces but it was needed. They had to take this seriously. "No one expected us to ditch the Acapella route and to come with that level of choreography. If Vocal Adrenaline had, I am telling you they would have pulled out all the stops and we might not even be having this conversation now. We want to go to Nationals guys, but trust me, New Directions want this as much as we do, so it's going to come down to which team works that little bit harder to get the edge."

"Originality is one of those ways," Trent told them, "everything from our songs to our moves to the costumes we wear are going to have to tell the story of love in some innovative way. We've tasted victory by making it to the finals of the Acappella competition, but excuse me for being greedy by saying I want two Finals to be stressing over come May. Are you guys with me?" he asked.

"We are!" Phillip declared, a large smile on his face, "come on guys, we thought that going up against Vocal Adrenaline would be suicide and we did it. Barely it seems, but we did it. We can do it again. This time we're going to take down the New Directions, and after that we're going to LA for the finals!"

"That's the attitude," Jeff said, and Trent wasn't too surprised at the flush that crossed Phillip's face.

"What do you say gentlemen," Kurt added, looking around the room, "are you ready to do this?"

A chorus of shouts echoed around the room and Kurt shared triumphant looks with his fellow council members. There was no real guarantee they would come out victorious at Regionals, but no one was going to accuse them of not trying their hardest to get there.

"Does anyone think they're making this year's Regionals a hell of a bigger deal?" Jeff asked, lacing his hand through Kurt's as they walked into the venue.

"Well, without Vocal Adrenaline in the competition, people actually don't know whose going to be representing Ohio this time," Kurt responded, before looking back to where Trent was coming up behind him with Phillip and George - the leader of the school's dance club - in tow.

It was two weeks from the competition, and all the teams were invited for a viewing of the performance stage. There was even an opportunity for the respective teams to book the area for two days each for final practice, something that they were eager to accept.

"It's weird though that they're letting us tour," Kurt stated, "something's probably up with that stage."

And that turned out to be the truth. They were accustomed to a bare stage of varying degrees, perhaps with a few steps in the back, but this set-up, it was indeed different. It wasn't that the stage was large - it was roughly equivalent to Dalton's, but it was multifaceted.

"They use here for plays, don't they?" Phillip asked, from Jeff's side. "Why else would they have balconies built in?"

"That island is a part of the stage too," George pointed out. Indeed, a few feet in front of the main stage, there was a circular elevated bit that looked capable of holding at least four people on it. Kurt moved away from them, gently freeing his hand from Jeff to explore it. There were steps leading down from the main stage and then there was a slight incline that led to the island. The entire theatre was rather circular in shape, so people moving back and forth would be in view.

"We definitely have to use that," Kurt declared.

"We do," Trent agreed. "I think those banisters can hold people as well."

Kurt turned to where he was pointing, only now realising that there was about eight feet of space between the stage and a short wall separating the audience. He was right; people would be comfortably able to walk or dance there.

"A layered choreography may be best," George said, his tone contemplative. "We definitely need to utilise most if not all of this. We can have people on the island and on the stage, maybe even a backwards movement between them. Phillip," he bid, "go on the island. See if you can get from there to the bannister easily.

George himself moved away from them to the edge of the stage, gauging the distance. Kurt barely held back a shout as the dark-skinned teen, after a moment, leapt forward, landing (barely in his opinion) on the bannister. Phillip, seconds later jumped off the island, and, more easily, landed on a bannister.

"Think we can do a flip off these?" he asked loudly, to George who was now performing a series of movements along the breadth of it, as if checking what it was capable of, "it's be more technical than a jump."

"The island to the bar definitely," he decided and suited action to words by doing a flip onto the island. "From the stage to here is a bit more risky. A few of the guys can manage it though, me including. Can't say I have the time to get the Warblers in shape for all this."

Phillip didn't answer, and instead turned, focussing on the balcony. "The highest one may be a problem, but the middle one has a ledge. That's what, twelve feet from the ground? A backward flip from that wouldn't be too bad."

"You guys did pretty awesome on the gymnastics moves," George agreed. "If we put three or four catchers on each side of the balcony, we can probably turn the landing into a lift. While they're in the air we can have people flipping onto the wall, and maybe some hip-hop moves and free-style on the island."

"You do realise they're talking about us," Kurt whispered to the other two, whose expressions thankfully were just as...apprehensive as his.

"Trent is currently re-considering asking the dance team for help," he admitted, drawing a snicker from Jeff at his third person reference to himself.

"Well the maximum team size is twenty five," Kurt mumbled, "and there is fifteen actual Warbler members. Let's just have the dance people do those things."

"We can hear you, you know."

"We want you to, Phillip," Jeff called back.

"You guys were worried about Sectionals and you managed fine," George told them, almost dismissively. "And that was before you all started joining us twice a week. You'll be fine. It may look like a lot now, but you guys have flipped and rolled these distances before. Now be good boys and open your books and start taking these measurements. We're going to have to re-create this stage in Dalton if we're going to safely do this on the day."

"Does he just walk around with measuring tape?" Jeff asked.

"I do. Start measuring."

"Dictator," Jeff murmured, and Kurt nudged him with his elbow, while Trent just silently opened his notepad to a clear page.

"My muscles have muscles," Kurt complained, twisting his body in an attempt to alleviate it. "Come here and give me a massage. Preferably with Icy Hot."

"My poor baby," Blaine cooed sympathetically, "it isn't too bad is it?"

"Nothing a week worth's of sleep won't cure. George is a dictator."

"You sound like Jeff."

"I don't care," Kurt groused. "We're going to start singing and dancing tomorrow. Blaine, this is hard."

"You want to go to Nationals, sweetheart. This is what it takes."

"We never worked so hard last year," Kurt protested.

"And we didn't win," Blaine said patiently, leaning back against his headboard and trying not to chuckle at Kurt's pout. "I know what soreness feels like babe. If it's too bad, I'm sure Finn will give you a massage."

"He's a meanie."

"He laughed at your pain," Blaine correctly guessed, entirely too amused by the glare Kurt directed at him.

"If you're going to be this uncooperative I will Skype with Jeff instead."

"Oh please don't!" Blaine said dramatically, holding his hands out pleadingly to the screen, "my night would be woefully incomplete without your beautiful face."

"That's right, know your place," Kurt replied, lifting his nose at him.

"You are being quite sassy you know."

"I can be whatever I want. I am sore and you are not here to massage me."

"I don't know Kurt. I may just decide to start a list of whenever you sass me and seek revenge the next time I see you."

"No tickles!" Kurt protested, chuckling when Blaine wriggled them at him. "How's your reading going?"

"Fine. I finished that chapter I needed to read before dinner. I'm all set for the group meeting in the morning. Did you get back your Chemistry test?"

"I got eight one."

"That's good sweetheart," Blaine praised, "Keep it up."

"Dalton's good at preventing Senioritis," Kurt admitted.

"Well, a lot of people don't realise that the schools are going to send along your final senior grades as well. If your SATs are great but you slack off too badly afterwards, the colleges may reconsider. It doesn't happen a lot, but why risk it?"

"I know, I know. We got that speech already. There's a few schools left that applications are still open for. Should I apply?"

Blaine furrowed his brows. "How many safety school applications have you sent out?"

"Ohio State and Boston College."

Blaine scratched his head. "Well one more safety school application wouldn't hurt. I wouldn't cross ten overall though. Your SAT scores are great sweetheart, and with Dalton you have no choice but to be a well-rounded student. I'm pretty certain you'll get accepted into most, if not all of these."

"Even Columbia?"

"Even Columbia," Blaine agreed, "so one more application if you really want it, and after that put it out of your mind okay? The next step will be interviews if anything, and I'll help you with those closer to the time."

"Yes sir."

"There's my good boy," Blaine teased. "Now why don't you go shower and get something more to eat hmm? Call me back when you're done."

"You just want to Skype with someone else."

"Guilty," he admitted, "it won't take too long and then I promise you'll have me to yourself."

"I may just decide to go watch tv with dad first."

Blaine laughed softly, "I don't doubt you will sweetheart." He was still smiling when he disconnected the call and immediately started one with Finn. "Hi," he greeted, a bit unnerved by the decidedly grim look on his face. "I got your text, but Kurt started a call as soon as I logged on. What's going on?"

"Rachel just doesn't know when to butt out," he grumbled, "and now we've got a situation to deal with."


	19. Rumours and Bruises

"We shouldn't stay out here too long," Kurt said, pulling his coat a bit tighter around him as they walked. "It's pretty cold."

"It's exactly right for clearing the head and numbing the limbs before our self-assigned torture."

Kurt laughed, the air condensing before him. "We really better win after all of this. Finn's amazed by how hard we're working so far, and frankly, amazed that we've increased the number of practices we're having."

"There's five days to the competition," Jeff said, shrugging, "we really do need to step up the ante. But I'll admit that I didn't expect it to be this hard. And, unfortunately we can't complain during practice."

"The drawback of being the Council," Kurt murmured.

"It didn't help that we stupidly made the flipping distance George was after. We may need those long sleeved shirts after all. These bruises probably won't garner any audience approval."

Kurt shuddered at the remembrance of the number of falls, misses or tumbles they had taken over the last few practices. He was a bit used to it given his time on the Cheerios and the extremes that could be demanded of him, but George took it to a different level. Oh, he was a genius; he would freely admit to that. Somehow he had recreated the venue's layout using a few beams from the gymnasium and a compilation of (thankfully sturdy) wooden crates. That genius however, meant that Kurt, Jeff, George and five others were tasked with flipping gracefully onto the beams and then somehow relaunch into singing within a few seconds. It was crazy dangerous - the bruises and scratches they both sported was proof enough of it.

Kurt himself had a rather disturbing bruise on his right hand that had worried Carole the moment she had seen it. He hadn't even noticed it at first, but, pressing hard on it did elicit some discomfort so Kurt was certain that had he had feeling it would be quite painful. Trent had told them that they could pull out if they really wanted - George could find a way to still make it look balanced, but really, Kurt was curious to see if he could do it. If he managed it with his one-armed self...it would be a monumental occasion for him.

"At least we're landing on the bar half the time now," he said eventually.

"It's the other fifty percent I'm worried about. But it's a nice distraction."

"It is," Kurt agreed, not probing deeper into it. The wind picked up a bit and he shuddered, smiling when Jeff pulled him close, his arm comfortable around him. "I'm sorry," he said, "let's turn back. It's a good ten minute walk back from here. Thanks for putting up with my selfishness."

"Hey no, I wanted to come with you," Kurt said reassuringly. "I'm just so looking forward to Spring. This winter seems worse than usual for some reason."

"Mother nature hates us is why," he declared. "We should have a snow fight the next time its deep enough."

Kurt snorted at the quick change in tone, but nodded. "I'll referee," he promised. "We also need to ensure that everyone is on time for that final fitting tomorrow. Trent is right, we should do at least one dry run in uniform to ensure everything is okay."

"We should," Jeff agreed, "it's going to be a bit awkward for you isn't it?"

"What is?" he asked, looking at him. "Oh, you mean the competition?"

"Yup."

"Not that much," he decided after a moment. "I've officially been a Warbler longer than a member of the New Directions at this point, and well, time has dulled my emotional attachment to them. I care for them, but it's not the same. I rooted for them before because I wanted Finn to be happy, but collectively, my time in New Directions pales in comparison to this. So yes, they're my former team, but that's not going to deter me from wanting to win."

He felt Jeff's eyes on him as his words drifted off. "What are you thinking?"

Kurt sighed, shaking himself to rid the unpleasant thoughts that floated to the surface. "Glee club helped me a lot," he told him honestly, "you're not the only one with a tough middle school life. During your summer of debauchery, I actually contemplated suicide."

Jeff's steps faltered. "What?"

"The bullying wasn't a new thing. Lima is small enough that most of us were in school together at one point, and all of the bullies were in my middle school with me. Finn was there too but we weren't much of anything back then even though our parents started dating midway through our final year. I was alone and bullied and I sort of figured that dad and Carole were in it for the long haul, so even if I wasn't around anymore, he'd still have a son – a better one – in Finn.

"I was wandering about once that summer and ended up in some sort of fair at the mall the community group set up. I guess I was a bit too fascinated by the pamphlets on suicide and this awkward redhead woman there noticed me. She tried to talk to me, but I got spooked and ran away. I never did manage to hurt myself that summer and guess what? That woman turned out to be my high school guidance councillor and the minute she realised who I was she called in my dad and told him her fears. His solution was to limit my alone time and demanded I join a club. Glee saved my life, I'll say that plainly, but also...it was so disheartening at times.

"Rachel was the star, Finn with her, and Mr. Shue always favoured them. My voice may be something special here in an all male choir, but in a mixed one? I just had to shut up or try to blend in where I could. My range is better than it was now, but I rarely got anything besides scorn whenever I used my lower register. Whenever I did the guys snickered and asked if I was trying to force puberty. When I worked on my higher range most of the girls asked if I even had balls. Mr. Shuester never did anything to stop that and he even pulled me out for my dancing at times, and trust me, if you've seen Finn freestyle, you'll agree that I wasn't the worst dancer back then yet he always insulted me for it without trying you know...to help me in any way. Cheerleading helped with that a lot and now, well having to relearn balance gave me a bit more awareness of my body, so I'm a lot better at dancing now.

"So, what I'm trying to say under all this rambling is that I was a member of the team, but I never belonged there, not in the way I belong here. You guys took me in from day one, even before I was a real member and you've never let me feel inadequate. You guys always ensure that there was something I could do in the routines, or adapted it to me. You could have easily nixed me performing that duet with Blaine, saying that it wasn't worth the risk of me getting stage fright, but you didn't. Hell you guys even let me on the council, me, a nobody from Lima. That's why I want us to win so much. It may be selfish of me, but it'd also be a way for me to stand there and say that see New Directions, you guys treated me like I wasn't anything, and look, I beat you. It's horrible I know, but, deep down, that's how I feel."

Kurt hadn't even realised that they had stopped walking, but he did feel it when Jeff reached out and pulled off a frozen tear drop. Kurt offered him a weak smile, not really certain where that deluge of speech had come from, but boy, did he feel a bit better for having said it. He didn't protest when Jeff hugged him tightly for a moment, before slinging his arm back around him and tugging them back into walking.

"We're going to double our efforts over the next few days Kurtsie," he told him softly.

"Why?"

"Because I really really want to kick their asses now more than ever."

Kurt could only emit a watery laugh at that, resting his head on Jeff's shoulder as they finally, thankfully came in sight of the building.

"You guys are crazy!"

They both looked up, hearing Trent's voice carrying on the wind.

"You love us," Jeff shouted back while Kurt settled for just laughing as Phillip's head popped out of the window next to Trent's.

"I'll have tea ready by the time you guys get up here."

"You're my favourite Phil!"

"That made his day," Kurt said happily as he took in the boy's beaming smile before he pulled back.

"He likes you."

"And you are still delusional," Kurt muttered, as they happily re-entered the warm, welcoming embrace of the recreation building.

Kurt was exhausted, sweaty and re-assessing all of his life choices that had led him to this level of tiredness.

"We should have stayed outside in the cold," Jeff lamented from his spot on the floor behind him.

Kurt didn't bother to respond; his breathing was still too harsh to facilitate that. He was heartened though to see that he was not the only one tired. Unlike George and his dancers (who were now Satan and the Pips in Kurt's mind), the majority of the Warblers were in a similar state of fatigue, many shirtless on the floor or else guzzling down water rapidly. They had worked hard today, so hard, and the heat and sweat of the room was proof enough of that.

"Do you guys think you can go another round?" George asked, walking over to where they were with far too much cheer.

Kurt's eyes widened comically even as Jeff groaned and rolled over.

"I'm just joking," he said, laughing, before dropping down a towel onto Kurt's chest. "You guys did well," he told them sincerely.

"Thanks," Kurt managed, "That means a lot."

"You were mildly acceptable as well Sterling," he added, nudging Jeff's back with a toe.

"I am ignoring you."

George snorted but walked away, probably to restore the morale of some of the other Warblers. When he was certain he had gone, Jeff rolled over, groaning as he sat up. He motioned to Trent to officially end the session before flopping back down, Kurt's breath escaping him as he landed partially on his torso. He closed his eyes, occasionally offering something resembling a goodbye whenever he heard his name.

"You all are not helping the situation," Trent told them wryly a few minutes later.

It took considerable effort, but Kurt managed to peel his eyes open while Jeff, who had by this time made Kurt's stomach into his own personal pillow grunted in acknowledgement of his words.

"What situation?" Kurt inquired, as Trent dropped down beside them, crossing his legs.

Trent eyed them for a moment. "You guys are aware of the rumours right?"

"My awesomeness is not mere rumour," Jeff declared loftily, spoiling the effect slightly by yawning.

Kurt tapped his head lightly. "What rumours?"

Trent pointedly let his eyes move from one council member to the other.

"Oh," Kurt said after a second.

"Oh what? Edify me Kurtsie."

"People think we're dating, aren't they?" Kurt asked, a hint of wryness entering his tone.

"Bingo," Trent confirmed. "There're a few variations of it, but that's the gist of it."

"Who's the top?"

"Jeff," Kurt scolded.

"Hey, I'm taller. Doesn't that make me the top?"

"This isn't a manga story," Kurt retorted.

"But it could be," he singsonged in return, finally opening his eyes and sitting up so that he could face Trent. Rather reluctantly, because he was still quite tired, Kurt mimicked him.

"So, are Jeff and I living in sin?"

"Nothing so drastic," Trent answered, chuckling at the joke. "The main rumour has you two and Blaine in a polyamorous relationship."

Kurt glared at Jeff who looked away while pursing his lips. "I can safely say we know where that one came from."

Trent laughed outright this time. "Jeff you are ridiculous."

"Any other interesting ones?"

"That's the most ludicrous one," Trent confirmed.

"Meh, we must teach the gentlemen of Dalton true gossiping skills."

"How about we not encourage this," Kurt stated, before rolling his eyes as Jeff pointedly dropped his head onto his shoulder, nuzzling his skin.

"Jeff needs his cuddles."

"Jeff needs a time out."

"Kinky!"

"You are ridiculous," Kurt declared.

"You both are," Trent amended, because, even as he scolded the blonde, Kurt's hand had automatically started stroking through his hair.

"He's jealous."

"Do you want cuddles Trent?" Kurt asked him, playing along.

"Do not encourage him Hummel."

"He does what I say Trent."

"Who's being kinky now?"

"Touché."

"I am hitting the showers," Trent said, rising.

"I think we've chased him away Kurtsie."

"We'll make it up to him Jeffie."

"Both of you fail at life," Trent shot at them, before leaving the room.

They waved him away, and, once the door behind him closed, Kurt asked, "Do the rumours bother you?"

"No. You?"

"No."

"Good. Then let's nap for a bit," Jeff said, reclining onto the floor once more. Kurt murmured in agreement before joining him for well deserved rest.

"Hang on a moment, Blaine," Kurt bid, opening Finn's bedroom door. "Ready to lose chump?" he asked.

Finn looked up from his laptop, an amused expression on his face. "Ready to loose a can of whoop ass on some canaries tomorrow? Why yes little brother, I am indeed ready."

"Keep dreaming chump."

"Who taught you chump?" Finn returned, amused.

"Jeff did."

"Jeff needs some schooling on street slang."

"Blaine, Finn is being mean to me," Kurt whined.

"You started it, sweetheart," Blaine pointed out, with a rather indulgent tone, "don't be upset that he finished it."

"Blaine I hope you remembered to mail Kurt some handkerchiefs to wipe his tears tomorrow," Finn said loudly so that his voice could carry to the Bluetooth headset Kurt was wearing.

Kurt listened for a moment, before pursing his lips. "Blaine said to leave him out of this."

"Smart man," Finn stated, approvingly, "now go away little bro. I got forty minutes to finish this online quiz."

"I hope you fail."

"I hope you realise that unlike Blaine, I can respond to sass immediately."

Kurt squeaked and quickly exited the room, Finn's laughter drifting behind him.

"You were completely unhelpful," Kurt scolded, flopping down onto his bed.

"My apologies sweetheart," he returned. "Jeff wants me to convince you to join Facebook by the way."

"Jeff wants to make us Facebook official," Kurt explained.

Blaine laughed ruefully. "I figure there was some sort of angle to his request."

"He said that if you asked politely he'd allow you to be listed as a family member."

Blaine snorted. "It seems like there are two sassy Dalton boys I now have to deal with."

"No tickles!"

"That's not going to save you."

"I ought to hang up on you," Kurt grumbled.

"You're welcomed to try but that'd just double your sentence instantly."

"You drive a hard bargain Anderson."

"I love you too," he responded pertly. "Are you prepared for tomorrow?"

"I have no choice but to be," Kurt answered. "We have the routine down now...for the most part, and our vocals are pretty good as well. Trent's demanded that we all go to bed by ten tonight. I think he's actually going to do dorm checks."

"Wes tried that once," Blaine said musingly. "We locked him in a closet."

"Blaine!"

"Supernatural was on," he replied defensively, something that caused Kurt to laugh.

"He is right though, you need sleep tonight."

"I'll go to bed early," he promised.

"There's my good boy," Blaine cooed and Kurt found his cheeks heating up at the warm tone.

"Your mother called me earlier. She's sending her team to film everything."

"She would do that. I swear she loves you more than me at times."

"Because I am absolutely adorable."

"Undeniably so."

Kurt was about to say something but stilled as he heard a metallic sound coming from Blaine's end of the line.

"Is that a train?" he asked. "You have an eight to ten lecture don't you?"

"Mmmhmm, I do," Blaine answered quickly. "One of the girls from my study group wasn't feeling too well so I offered to bring her here."

"That's nice of you," Kurt told him. "But you'll be late for class."

"I'll sneak in the back," Blaine said, in a reassuring tone, "it's a huge hall, the lecturer won't notice."

"Don't let your chivalry pave the path to delinquency," Kurt warned him.

Blaine's response was muffled by the sound of a next train and Kurt wasn't entirely certain but he thought that that was Wes' voice he heard briefly. He shrugged it off though.

"I'm going to help Carole with dinner," he said instead. "I'll text you before I go to sleep?"

"Of course. Call me in the morning okay?"

"I definitely will."


	20. Surprises

Nick fingered the envelope in his hands, his mind racing. It was quiet, too quiet, irritatingly quiet, but the thought of putting on some music or the television didn't occur to him. His mind kept returning to Jeff. He hadn't spoken to him in a few weeks, and hadn't seen him since he had ordered him out of the bedroom. His parents had decided that it would be best if they (mainly him) left the Sterling home prematurely given the situation, and though they had not blamed him, Nick had seen the disappointment in his mother's eyes. She hadn't needed to say a word. He knew he had screwed up, known it from the moment he had told Jeff he hadn't wanted him...the same thing fifteen year old Jeff had tearfully told him that his birth mother had told him when he had gone to see her.

He hadn't meant to say it, but it had been so frustrating in that moment with Jeff yelling at him and he not being able to find some sort of justification for his actions. Not that there was any at the end of the day. Nick could admit that he had handled the situation badly. He had from the very beginning. But, he did recognise that a weird part of him liked the fact that Jeff was in love with him, had been for so long. It felt good knowing that he inspired such feelings in another, but Nick always knew that he didn't love the blonde in the same way. He loved him, that was undeniable, but he had not been in love with him. And, despite knowing that, he had strung him along until it had come to this.

Nick gave a haggard sigh, dropping the envelope in favour of raking his hand through his hair. What was he to do? What was he to say? It was why he had never initiated conversation with Jeff past a check in those first few days after he had been released from the hospital, and while he could rationalise that Jeff had not started a conversation either, he knew very well that he would not. He had ignored him and then insulted him to the point where the blonde would not risk it. He had been such an ass to him, and yet Nick freely admitted that he missed him. Jeff had been a part of his life from the very beginning. They were destined to be friends given their parents' history together, and Nick knew that he could not see a long term future without Jeff.

He had hoped that Christmas would have sorted everything out. That they could move pass the fact that Jeff was in love with him and returned to the relationship they had always had, the one Nick loved. He loved college. He loved rooming with Blaine, but ever so often he wondered what it would be like if it was Jeff here in New York with him instead, of the absolutely hilarious time they would have together. Except, he had more than likely screwed that up. And yet, still, despite everything, Nick missed him, missed him so much that he wanted to call him and just say all the things he had been thinking, but it was late enough that he didn't want to disturb him, given the competition tomorrow. Nick bit off an oath, rolling over and staring at the envelope Blaine had left him.

What should he do?

"Give me a hug lil bro," Finn demanded, making grabby arms at Kurt who, with a laugh, all but launched himself into his arms. Finn pulled him close, uncaring of anyone who was watching them. He lowered his head the distance required to murmur in Kurt's ear, "No matter which one of us win today, I am so damn proud of you, okay kiddo? You've come so far, and you are already a winner in my eyes."

Finn felt as Kurt relaxed against him. "I love you," Kurt said simply, and smiling softly, Finn released him from the embrace, his hand reaching up to stroke his cheek affectionately.

"You are being quite cuddly," Kurt remarked, although he made no move to escape the movement, his arm moving absentmindedly in response to something one of the Warblers called to him.

"Well I was going to tell you this last night," he explained, "but you were fast asleep by the time I came to your room and you were gone by the time I got up this morning."

"Last minute practice and make-up application," he said.

Finn frowned, looking into his face. "I don't see any."

"We haven't done faces. We had some marks and bruises that needed to be disguised."

Finn winced sympathetically; Kurt had gotten pretty battered over the past few days. "You're in long sleeves though."

Kurt shot him a decidedly mischievous look. "Maybe we are, maybe we aren't," he teased with a grin.

"Spoiler alert, I've seen your costume."

"Oh have you?"

"Tickles," Finn said threateningly, and Kurt chuckled dancing back from him.

"I'm going to meet my team."

"I'll see you inside," Finn agreed, and watched with fondness as Kurt ran to catch up with his fellow uniformed students, a redheaded one immediately drawing him into conversation as they went into the venue.

Finn quickly checked the time. An hour and a half until the show began. He dug his phone out of his jeans pocket, dialling a number from memory. "Yo," he began without preamble once the call connected, "where are you?"

"They've really pulled out all the stops," Trent remarked, as he quickly went through the programme they had been given after being escorted to their dressing room. "They've got two guest performances, and fifteen minute musical interludes between each performance. We're going third by the way."

"You guessed right then," Phillip said, looking up from the button he was deftly sewing onto a freshman's jacket. "We're performing inverse to our Sectional scores."

"Hopefully the results won't be in that order," George pipped up, wriggling his shoulders as a test to his shirt.

"Are we sure this make-up won't bleed through the shirts?" a random voice asked.

"That's why we chose black shirts," someone answered.

"Snow pales in comparison to my skin colour!"

"Just don't sweat," Jeff quipped and the person groaned – a typical response to one of Jeff's more outlandish statements.

"A bit tighter," Kurt told him, and following the request, Jeff pulled the restraints around Kurt's arm a bit more taunt before securing it.

"This is a good thing right? When it just does its own square dance?"

Kurt snorted at the description but nodded. "I've noticed that I end up with a bit more feeling and movement after these fits happen."

"Not in pain though?"

"I took my meds," Kurt reassured him, "I'll be fine, okay. Now get your shirt fixed."

"You're bossy when you're nervous."

"And you're a brat all the time."

"Good point."

Kurt moved away from him, giving a bit of a pep-talk to a sophomore who looked particularly nervous and just smiling at one of the dancers who was jamming away to his phone. Whatever worked, he told himself.

Fifteen minutes later they were all basically in order and so Trent took the time to speak. "Okay gentlemen," he said loudly, calling them to order, "this is it, the moment we've been working on for so long. We've done everything we could have to prepare for this, and because of that I have one thing to say. Forget about it. Forget the nerves, forget the worry, hell forget about winning. What I want for us to do is to just go out there and have fun. Let the audience see what we see. That we enjoy what we're doing and who we're doing it with. Don't worry if you make a misstep. Do a jig and get back into it. Forget a word? Laugh it off and move along. If you get stage fright, look to the person next to you and they'll help you through. This is our moment guys, and I want us all to enjoy every last second of it. The theme is love, and all I want to do is make sure that they see the love we have for each other and what we've come here to do."

A cheer rose up from the gathered teenagers in response to his words, and a few people started thumping each other or just plain out glomping on the nearest person, something that drew a laugh from Kurt. So caught up in their merriment, Kurt nearly missed a rap on the door. He stopped laughing, his eyes quickly darting to the clock on the wall. There's was still a good twenty minutes before they were supposed to be escorted to their seats for the opening of the show.

"I'll answer it," Jeff murmured from beside him. Kurt watched curiously as he went to the door and peered around it, the angle preventing him from seeing who it was. He stared as Jeff actually gasped, and he tugged at Trent's sleeve to get his attention even as Jeff leapt forward to hug someone with a gleeful shout.

That caught the attention of the room and everyone turned toward the door.

"Wes!" Phillip shouted, and Kurt's eyes widened as the door opened fully.

Indeed, Wes was there, in jeans and a long sleeved shirt, currently with his arms full of Jeff. "But how...?" Trent breathed beside him even as a dark-skinned teenager pushed past him to enter the room.

"Hello Warblers!" David announced, sauntering in with a grin, followed by an equally smiling Thad and...

"Andrew!" Kurt half-shouted, running over. He stopped to give David a quick hug, who rolled his eyes indulgently before allowing Kurt to bypass him for the burly Yale student who swept him up into a tight hug.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt asked as he was released.

"Well it's not every day the Warblers are poised to make history you know," he told him with that wide grin that always left Kurt feeling cheerful. "But I'll tell you more of that after you've met everyone."

"Everyone?" Kurt repeated, and, patting his shoulder fondly, Andrew pushed Kurt behind him before walking further into the room to greet a few more of the Warblers.

There was no one in the doorway, but, trusting the redhead, Kurt stepped out into the hallway, only to feel his feet weaken slightly at the person standing there.

"Blaine!" he said, his eyes stinging suddenly. "Blaine."

His boyfriend was indeed standing there, a large bouquet of flowers in his hands. He dropped it immediately as Kurt barrelled into him, flinging his arm around his neck. "I take it you like my surprise," Blaine said with a laugh as he held him close, tanging his fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. Kurt pulled back, and in lieu of words kissed him long and hard.

"I love your surprise," he told him, voice shaky. "Wait...is that why I heard the train last night."

Blaine nodded, and chuckled when Kurt hit his shoulder. "I'm sorry I lied poppet. I hope my presence makes up for it."

"I wasn't supposed to see you again until June."

"Which is entirely too far away," Blaine replied, "plus we have to make up for Valentine's Day."

"How long are you here for?" he asked quickly.

"Just until tomorrow night," Blaine told him sadly, but Kurt nodded in acceptance. He knew that Blaine had classes to get back to, but was still so glad he had managed to come.

"Let's go inside," Blaine said, pulling him close. "I want to wish everyone good luck. Oh, and you look gorgeous."

"Thank you," Kurt answered. He realised something as he walked into the room. "No Nick?"

Blaine sighed, his eyes falling on Jeff who thankfully seemed quite cheerful, ensconced between Thad and David. "He didn't want to come. I still left him a ticket before I left in case he changed his mind, but he hasn't called me or anything. I was actually considering not letting you guys know we were here until afterwards to spare Jeff that, but Thad was worried that someone would spot us in the crowd while onstage. We're here to watch you qualify for Nationals, not to disrupt you."

"You're that confident about us?" Kurt asked.

"Sweetheart, your Sectionals routine blew anything we did out of the water. And from what you've said, your presentation today surpasses that. I have every bit of faith that you're going to head the Warblers' first journey to Nationals."

"Hopefully you're right," Kurt murmured. "I want to make you proud."

"I am already proud," Blaine told him with full sincerity, and those words warmed Kurt straight to his heart, "never doubt that Kurt. I am so, so proud of you and everything you have and will continue to accomplish."

Kurt made an embarrassed sound, and Blaine chuckled, kissing his cheek once before surrendering him back to Andrew.


	21. Regionals

Finn waved to Blaine as he settled into a seat a row up from where his parents were, smiling when Blaine gave him a thumbs up. The reunion had gone well then, he thought, settling back into his seat. They had been the last group to be seated (given the almost expected drama that had erupted in the dressing room) and so he had not been able to see his brother before this. Finn's lips curled, knowing that, more than ever now, Kurt, hell, all of the Warblers, would be working even harder now. They had their classmates who were here to support them, their family, and now their former team members here cheering for them. Hopefully they took that pressure in the right way.

"You seem happy," Rachel whispered from beside him.

Finn didn't bother to reply. Mr. Shue might have pulled them into a meeting to remind them (threaten them) to put their differences aside for the sake of the team, but for Finn, it was a superficial truce at best. He wanted nothing to do with Rachel, especially given the phone call Burt had received earlier that week, a phone call he had thankfully mentioned nothing about to Kurt. That was definitely not something Kurt needed to deal with and he would not forgive her for it. Thankfully though, she didn't press him, settling for a long suffering sigh that previously that would have had Finn doing anything to put her back into good spirits. But right now he could not be bothered to do it. They were both good enough actors, he reckoned that they would still impress the audience despite their own differences.

Or at least he hoped so.

The lights started flashing, signalling five minutes to show time and a kernel of nervousness wriggled in Finn's stomach and he forcibly tried to force it away.

"The show must go on," he murmured to himself.

Twenty minutes later, any thought of nervousness was miles away from Finn's mind as he bent his head trying not to laugh too loudly. Man this was hilarious, he thought, lifting his head briefly to take in more of The Renegades before snorting and laughing again. He wasn't the only one. Around him people were either laughing or cheering loudly for all the wrong reasons. He couldn't help but wonder who exactly this group had beat to get here.

The team was a mismatched group of teenagers in varying degrees of punk rock clothing. But it wasn't their clothing that was hilarious - it was their interpretation of the theme. Love for this group so far consisted of a rather edgy performance of "Blame It On The Alcohol" that had a few people cheering a bit too loudly as they grinded and gyrated around the stage, one standing one the island and making the devil's horn sign. Somewhere further down the aisle Puck whooped loudly and Finn was not at all surprised by it. Beer and dirty dancing. Puck was in his glee right about now. Finn nearly lost it though when they transitioned into a rock version of "Chandelier". He was done; he could not take this seriously and he really doubted that the judges would.

"We're definitely not fighting for last," he thought as finally, the performance came to an end.

People jumped to their feet to applaud, but Finn knew that it was more in appreciation for the laughs they had provided than anything else. He stood as well, because boy did they successfully rid him of his nerves and, due to his height he could see Jeff cheering loudly while Kurt tugged furiously on his arm, trying and failing to reign him in. Jeff probably had wanted to run up there and sing with them.

"That performance was an abomination," Rachel declared. "That was nothing but an ode to alcohol."

"All kinds of loves exist sweetheart," Puck said giving her a wide grin.

He was still too into that performance Finn thought, as he sat.

The host had returned to the stage and was now trying to restore order to the room.

"That was a rather...innovative take on the theme wasn't it?" Rebecca Sampson - a local television anchor - said, although it was pretty obvious to all that her cheer was forced. "Right now we're going to ask New Directions to start heading to the backstage area while, for your entertainment, we have the local group, The Swizzlers, here to perform a medley for you. Give it up for them!" she bid.

Finn was pretty grateful that they were performing now. That was one group he could do without seeing.

Well the audience reaction to them had been considerably more positive, Finn thought contentedly as they ran off the stage still sharing hugs and high fives. The cheers had been genuine, and, by the start of their third song, everyone was on their feet, jamming to the groovy love song they had ended their routine with. Finn was happy with what they had done, and, getting Artie to the island had drawn a significant reaction from the crowd just as they had hoped. There wasn't much he could say for the vocals. Rachel's solo had been amazing and, with Mercedes delivering secondary vocals, he knew the judges had to have enjoyed it. Their duet was good as well, although resisting the urge to sneer at the lovey-dovey eyes Rachel threw at him (that had definitely not happened during their practice) had been an act of patience. Mr. Shue was talking now, congratulating them and saying something along the lines of this being their best performance to date, and Finn agreed with him on that. They had had to come hard this time around, harder than usual and it had paid off. Now it was up to the judges to decide if they had worked hard enough. But enough of that, he thought, as they headed back to their seats.

He had done his part and now he wanted to watch his little brother do his. Blaine gave him an enthusiastic nod of approval that left him grinning a bit as he dropped down into his seat.

There was a music band onstage now serving as the new interlude, and Finn looked around him absentmindedly. He frowned after a moment as he saw several men sporting the theatre's work jackets make their way to the stage carrying safety mats. Some were settled in front of the dividing wall and others behind it.

"What are they doing?" he heard Mercedes ask.

"I don't know," Santana answered.

Finn's mind raced as he recalled a complaint Kurt had made. "Shit," he breathed.

"Finn?" Rachel asked, resting her hand on his arm.

"Oh no, no, no," he muttered, not really hearing her, as he took in the men positioning themselves now. "They cannot...I am going to kill him," he grated out while resisting the urge to storm off to the backstage area right now to chew Kurt - hell all of the Warblers, off. The venue organisers had been worried their routine was excessive, Kurt had said. They wanted them to edit it because of it, he had said. Why was he getting the feeling that his brother has substituted the word excessive for dangerous, deadly or downright insane?

Finn turned to where Blaine was and their eyes met. He was only minutely relieved to see a similarly disturbed expression on his face. If he had known that Kurt was willingly participating in what was more than likely going to be a suicide routine, Finn would have immediately took away all of approval points he had given him over the past few years. Blaine looked away from him, turning in his seat to speak to Burt and Carole, and Finn in that moment, was certain that he was not the only one who was not going to enjoy the Warblers' performance as much as they had originally expected to.

By the time that Ms. Sampson came out to announce them, a few more audience members seemed to have picked up an inkling of what the workers had been doing. As the curtains started to raise, Finn noted that there was quite a bit of nervous energy in the auditorium alongside the anticipatory air.

The curtain lifted slowly, revealing a dimly lit stage. The main spotlight slowly brightened on the stage centre, revealing Trent. The music started gently and despite his nervousness, Finn's lips quirked as he recognised the opening strains of Michael Bolton's "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You". He relaxed back into his seat, and gave a soft whistle as Trent began singing. He hadn't realised that he had had that level of pipes on him, and he was impressed. The stage gradually brightened, and about six Warblers leaped gracefully across the stage in tune to his singing, some spinning while others made a series of movements, that, were Finn more knowledgeable, he would have recognised as contemporary lyrical dance. As he neared the chorus, almost ethereally, other voices started drifting forward, intertwining beautifully to complement Trent as he, well, unleashed his heart into the words of that chorus. There was no other way to put it.

The stage fully brightened and looking up Finn saw Kurt and Jeff on each respective balcony. The Renegades where the only group who hadn't used it then, he thought idly. He smiled as he easily picked out Kurt's lilting high notes, adding to the dimension of Trent's performance. He blinked in confusion after a moment, his eyes darting from Trent to his brother and then to the other performers. They were not dressed uniformly.

Trent was in a full suit, as were the dancers he was moving in tandem with now, but Kurt lacked a jacket and a tie. Instead his shirt had a few buttons undone and he was wearing a neck tie around his throat, and he was pretty certain that he was seeing suspenders on Jeff. He couldn't wait to see how that played out. By the time Trent was finished with the bridge, people were on their feet, some waving their phones in rhythm. He didn't blame them. If he hadn't been a bit perturbed by what was to come, Finn was certain he would have had goose bumps by now. Finn stood as well, not caring what the others thought. Trent was amazing and he would give him full kudos for that.

His head tilted in confusion as Trent's vocals slowed down, taking on a hint of confusion as the other Warblers entered the stage in movements that decidedly differed from the more graceful moves currently being performed. Finn laughed as they circled the original dancers, mimicking punches to their faces. The dancers comically fell to the ground and a good few laughs erupted from the audience as finally, two of them came up behind Trent and feigned tripping him before pointing upwards to Kurt and Jeff.

"Enough of the ballads!" Jeff declared cheerfully, before a heavy base started playing. "Let's kick this up a pace!"

Adam Lambert's "If I had You" Finn noted even as Kurt launched into the song, Jeff joining him after the first few lines.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as the Warblers, in fast paced choreography danced around the stage, raising the energy of the performance. The chorus found a few of them nudging their 'fallen' comrades who, surprising flipped from their prone states into crouches before standing, looking at their friends contemplatively for a moment, before falling into beat. A few women screamed at that, and Finn was liberal enough to accept that seeing suit clad males performing hip hop moves was quite visually appealing.

Finn's worry crept back though as four Warblers formed circles under each balcony, followed by two others who hopped onto them forming a tower. His eyes widened and he heard gasps, _actual gasps_ , as Kurt and Jeff, gave the audience big grins as others took over singing the bridge. The pair, in tandem, hopped over the balcony to the ledge, and there was all of Finn's fear right there again. Jeff was gyrating, while Kurt's movements were a bit more languished but still in the tune of the song. He saw the moment Kurt's performance face slipped briefly and oh god, he _was_ going to do what he was thinking.

"Oh my god!" Mercedes shouted (a cry echoed by a few more as) with a whoop from Jeff and a sassy finger snap from Kurt, they pushed off the ledges with enough force that turned it into a flip. Finn's throat was in his heart as he watched Kurt's body rotate once before he was (thankfully) caught by his circle. The tower moved, propelling him and within seconds he was grinning at the audience from the top of his pyramid, Jeff doing the same besides him as they retook control of the song.

The crowd was in an uproar now, understandably so and Finn recognised that the technicians backstage were compensating for it by raising the volume of their mics. The towers broke apart as they launched into the final chorus and, as Jeff and Kurt grooved and gyrated to the stage's centre, they flicked their hands outwards. More cheers erupted as the suited members dancing to the stage front, in one deft move tore off and tossed their jackets, revealing sleeveless shirts. Jeff and Kurt gave each other a high five and then the Warblers on either side of them tore away their sleeves and now they were all in the same uniform.

"Damn," he heard Santana shout.

He couldn't help but spare a glance at Rachel whose face was contorting. He knew what she was thinking. Two songs in, the Warblers had the crowd eating out of their hands in a way they had not managed. Two songs in and their stunts had already blown theirs out of the water. Their vocals were good as well, and, unlike them, they had done a considerably better job of disseminating the singing roles among them. Nearly half of them had, at this point, contributed vocally in some way. And now, they had actually picked up speed and intensity, so that, as Kurt let loose a note Finn had not even realised he was capable of doing, the number ended with an electric feeling running through the crowd.

Finn turned and grinned when he saw that Blaine and his friends were actually jumping as they cheered. He could understand. This performance, this performance was _epic_. Except that, Finn noted, so far those safety mats had not come into play and given that they were headed into the last song, Finn knew that the Warblers were about to make or break their performance.

Wisely, they let a few seconds pass for the crowd to settle down a bit before they started popping their shoulders, a strong drumbeat starting. Little Mix's "Black Magic," an even higher intensity song. By now Finn could only stand there and watch as the Warblers secured (in his opinion) their victory. All of them were moving in coordination, utilising the stage. In the back there were a few tumbles and leaps occurring. To the sides were more of that contemporary dancing and Kurt and the Council alongside a few others had spread themselves in the middle of the stage, performing a cross of pop and hip-hop moves that was quite impressive. Finn was never more proud of Kurt than in this moment. Kurt didn't stick out at all despite being one-armed, and his heart warmed as he remembered those early days when he struggled to keep his balance while standing. He had come so far. His reminiscence cut off abruptly though when he saw the six of them rhythmically backing away as they headed for their performance headed for the explosive edge of the chorus.

"Oh hell," he breathed as they started running forward, hoping futilely that they were just teasing them. But no, no they weren't. Kurt and Jeff were on the left of the stage, two boys he didn't know were on the right, and Phillip and Trent were centre staged.

"Are they going to-?" Rachel began only to cut herself off as, reaching edge of the stage they flipped, _they flipped_. Finn's heart skipped. Finn's eyes were riveted on his younger brother as he pushed forward, and somehow, _somehow_ , turned that movement into a rotation before landing on the bannisters and island. The audience lost it and Finn was torn between his pride and that previous urge to strangle Kurt. A few more Warblers poured onto the island as the flippers took over the bridge, freestyle dancing as they sang. They were impressive, but Finn could see that tiredness was starting to take root.

They compensated for it though, all six hitting the key notes simultaneously in their respective ranges so that the final result resonated. As the song neared its end, if possible, they stepped up the intensity, a few more pyramids and tosses occurring on the main stage while the bannister dancing transitioned into a routine of side jumps and fist pumps before it broke into freestyle once again. The song ended with them, hands victoriously in the air as they sang that final note to the heavens while all around the stage the remaining Warblers landed and posed.

Finn was pretty certain that his ears would be ringing in the hours to come from the noise being generated, and he knew that his throat would be sore from all the screaming he was doing. Now that Kurt was safely standing there breathless on the wall, he could admit that that truly was the performance of a lifetime.


	22. Results

Sorry about the repeat upload, last time. Here's the real chapter 22. Enjoy!

Kurt couldn't properly identify all the emotions racing through him as, with the assistance of the theatre's workers, he got off the wall before heading backstage, hugging and cheering with his friends as he did so. He was drenched, and, passing his hand over his face, he admitted that he wasn't quite certain if it was only sweat he was wiping away. Glancing around him, he could see that he wasn't the only Warbler in this position, and he was a bit gratified by it. Having the microphones removed took a while longer given their (understandable) rowdiness, and then, thankfully they were released back to their dress room. More than one of them had already started stripping as they walked. It was understandable; his shirt was starting to stick to him in quite an uncomfortable way.

He was grateful for the time between their performance and the results. No, there wasn't room for a shower as he really wanted, but at least there were dampened towels and water waiting for them that they made grateful use of before they traded their performance outfits for their uniform; nobody really wanted to remain in the damp costumes anymore, and with a shrug, Trent had said that he doubted it mattered at this point. As he changed, Kurt listened to the different conversations occurring around the room, laughing as a few of the statements he heard.

"I was so scared for a moment," Phillip said with a laugh to one of his friends, "I thought I had misjudged that flip's distance."

"I was just glad I didn't hear any terrified screaming from the audience," he responded. "That would have meant one of you had really gone over."

They all laughed at that.

"Was that crowd reaction not the best ever?" a random voice called out and all of them whooped and cheered.

"You're welcome Warblers," George said loudly.

"Pipe down Satan," Jeff snapped jokingly, causing them to descend into laughter again.

"I'll get you your regular sling now okay?" Jeff told him, after Kurt had finished with his shirt buttons. "The restrictor's left some marks on your skin and I won't have my sweet porcelain damaged."

"Yours?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm starting to like this threesome idea," Jeff said, and Kurt rolled his eyes as he went to where they had tossed their bags earlier.

Kurt blinked as a towel was dropped down onto his head before someone starting tousling his hair. "Thanks," he said, willingly accepting the assistance. He would freely admit that his arm was majorly sore right about now and he would take any assistance offered to him.

"You're welcome," Trent answered. "Your arms need a break now."

"Yeah. I think we're all going to be feeling this for this for a while," he admitted, "but I think we can all agree it's worth it."

"It was."

"Hands off my man, yo!" Jeff declared while setting his sling down on his lap.

"Jeff," Trent said with exasperation, "go see how much time we have left before we go back to the stage if you want something to do."

Trent pulled off the towel in time for Kurt to see the petulant pout that Jeff gave before he shrugged. Kurt snorted as he gave Trent a mock-salute before heading out.

Kurt lost track of the time as he rose and started walking around the room, talking to a few of the Warblers, directing them to clean up the room as they went along. He headed back in Trent's direction eventually when he saw a bit of a frown clouding his face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, reaching up to straighten his tie as he spoke.

"Jeff's been gone a while," he pointed out, "nearly fifteen minutes."

"Bathroom break maybe?" Kurt asked, even though he too found the time a bit suspicious.

Before Trent could respond, the door opened and they both turned, relieved as their blond friend walked in, except, he seemed a bit pale.

"Jeff?" Kurt said inquiringly, hurrying over to where he was leaning against the newly closed door, Trent right behind him. "Jeff, you okay?"

"What happened?" Trent asked directly.

"Umm...they'll come get us when they're ready," Jeff answered, a bit woodenly. "There's a bit of a performance happening from the local theatre group and we don't really have to watch it. Seemed okay though. We should have a good thirty minutes left so, no rush."

Kurt's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew that look; he'd seen it on himself too many times. That look of being slightly lost and not knowing what to do but still not wanting to let anyone know that something was not okay.

"Let's take this outside," he suggested, gently taking and pulling Jeff's hand to get him off the door.

"We've got a while yet guys," Trent said loudly, turning to the group, "Relax okay?"

Amidst the chatting, he heard one or two answers of agreement and he turned, following the pair outside and carefully closing the door behind them.

"Spill Sterling," he demanded.

"Come on Jeff," Kurt stated, a bit more cajolingly, "We know something happened. We can see it in your face. Talk to us, talk to _me_."

Jeff swallowed, and when he finally looked up from the floor he had been resolutely staring at, Kurt saw the beginning of tears in his eyes.

"I went to find someone," he told them, looking from one to the other, "but when I was near the main area...I saw him."

"Saw who?" Kurt asked, his mind racing over the possibilities. "And did he hurt you?"

"No...no? He kind of just stared at me. I don't think he expected to run into me just like that?"

"Who Jeff?" Trent demanded.

"Nick," Jeff answered, and Kurt felt his eyes widening. "I just ran into Nick."

The nervous energy was back within him, Kurt noted as they assumed their spots on the stage, Jeff firmly by his side. All three teams were now assembled, huddled and nervously whispering to each other. Right about now, Kurt was starting to find all the pomp and ceremony about the day a bit grating. He wanted the results and he wanted it now so he could refocus on Jeff who seemed dangerously close to a meltdown in his opinion. Jeff hadn't spoken much past his pronouncement, instead slapping on that mask of cheerfulness before bypassing them and walking into the room. Kurt had called Blaine immediately, telling him that Nick was there and asking him to figure out exactly what was going on. Blaine, his voice likewise worried, had agreed.

Looking into the audience now, Kurt eventually found his boyfriend and, yes, Nick was there seated beside him. This wasn't a bad thing right, he rationalised, smiling politely as the audience applauded for some reason. If Nick was here it had to mean something good, at least he hoped for Jeff's sake it was true. His head twisted, and he saw the way Jeff was gnawing on his lip. Not caring about where they were, Kurt looped his arm around Jeff's, tugging him close before pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You okay?"

"I-I...we need to just get through this okay?" Jeff whispered, his voice a bit shaky. "Let's just focus on this. On the results, right? We can deal with anything else after that. This is our moment right now. Let's not let anyone interrupt that."

"Okay," Kurt agreed, understanding. He smiled softly when Jeff released his arm in favour of grabbing and lacing their fingers together. Maybe he wasn't as badly off as he had thought.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it's the moment you have been waiting for!" the host, Mrs. Sampson announced cheerfully, "let's get to the results of the day!"

Around them and from the audience, people cheered, and Kurt settled for letting everyone else do the clapping for him right now.

"First off, we have an award to hand out to the overall first place team at Sectionals. Can we have a representative from Dalton Academy to receive this?"

"Go for it Phillip," Trent directed, with a smile.

Phillip stared at him for a moment, before nodding, going to shake hands and collect it to applause. Kurt nodded approvingly at Trent when he looked his way. Even if it had never been openly discussed as yet, there was a silent understanding that Phillip was to be the next 'chief' Council member. It was the right time for them to start actively integrating him into the fold and letting him learn the ropes. None of them had particularly enjoyed the sink or swim approach that had been fostered onto them and this was a good starting point. Trent patted his back as the redhead returned, and the beaming smile on his face told Kurt that Trent had indeed made the right call.

"Now for the awards for this competition! Let's start with the vocals. Now all groups gave it their all on stage today, but we have to admit that there were a few people here who stood out from the rest, and we have these wonderful crystal trophies here to acknowledge that. So, starting with the ladies, the award for Best Female Vocalist goes to...Rachel Berry from the New Directions!"

That wasn't too much of a surprise if any, Kurt noted, watching as she sprung forward to receive it with her trademark smile in place. There was no way in hell any of the girls from The Renegades had come close to doing anything resembling real singing and it wasn't as if Mr. Shue had really showcased any female voices beside hers.

"Now to the Best Male Vocalist," Mrs. Sampson said, "and I think we can all agree this person's voice wowed us to our core and took us mature folks down memory lane. Trent McDaniels of Dalton Academy, step forward young man."

Kurt laughed at Trent's incredulous expression before urging him forward alongside the other Warbler members. She had been right; Trent had put his soul into that song and he was glad that the judges had seen that.

"I can't believe this," Trent mouthed to him as he walked back.

"You did great," he mouthed back, while Jeff simply gave him a thumb up.

"Now all the teams were pretty innovative in terms of costume, but I am sure we can all agree that there was one team that took it a bit further."

Jeff chuckled beside him as the crowd erupted with glee, a few even calling out their team name. He blushed as he heard someone further back in their formation say loudly, "That's Kurt for you!" even as Mrs. Sampson shouted, "Congratulations Dalton Academy!"

"Go for it Kurt," more than one person said, and Jeff released him before nudging him forward. With little choice, Kurt, almost sheepishly, obeyed.

He accepted a hug in lieu of a handshake from the female judge before accepting the trophy, putting it on the floor alongside the other two before falling back in line.

"Now in our final category, we have an award for Best Choreography and-"

She was not able to finish her words because shouts came from the audience and a chant of their name started. He knew he was not the only one gaping because of it, and looking out, he grinned as he saw that their classmates and alumni were actually on their feet, Mr. Kentwood looking anywhere except at them. They were being decidedly un-gentlemanly right now, but it appeared that he would forgive it given the circumstances.

"The audience is right!" she said finally, amused. "Come forward Dalton!"

"George!" Kurt and Trent said, almost in tandem and nodding, George hurried forward to receive it, delighting everyone by flipping one-handed holding it, landing nimbly in front them. Kurt could only shake his head fondly at him.

"Hopefully all these awards mean something," he found himself thinking, taking in their haul.

"This is it now," Mrs Sampson, announced, as the judges walked onto the stage, one of them handing her an envelope, "where we announce which one of these teams is heading to Nationals. Do any of the judges want to make a comment before I read this?"

A middle-aged, plumped woman nodded, and took the microphone. "I would just like to say that this competition was such a delightful surprise. The teams this year have definitely stepped up their game, putting on a show I am certain we all enjoyed. They worked their hardest, all of them, and I just would like to say that no matter which team goes forward, I am certain that you all have bright futures ahead of you. Good luck to you all."

Everyone clapped politely at that, and her words were enough to sober the atmosphere in the room enough.

"Now," Mrs Sampson began, opening the envelope, "let's start with third place. We are very proud of you Renegades. Congratulations, you have received third place."

Kurt released the breath he hadn't realised he had held. He wasn't too surprised, but being judgemental really was not on the agenda right about now. Judges could be weird that way. But thankfully it was now as he had expected it to be, a competition between them and the New Directions.

While the captain of The Renegades stepped forward to receive a plaque, Trent stepped back, breaking formation so that he was next to Kurt, trapping him between him and Jeff. His arm twinned around his waist, and he leant in to speak.

"We did well today guys. No matter what happens now, we've done every damn thing we could have."

"We did," Jeff confirmed. "I don't think there is anything we could have done differently. I'm proud of what we did today, and I'm glad I was able to do it with the two of you."

"Agreed," Kurt said, his voice equally soft. "No matter what happens today, we've already accomplished what we said we wanted to do at the start of the year. We've done it."

Jeff crowded him a bit and they shared a bit of a three-way hug. They remain close as, with The Renegades off the stage, the results announcement continued.

"Now, it comes down to the New Directions and the Dalton Academy Warblers. One of these teams is heading to LA in May to compete against twenty four other teams, and you know what, I think that no matter which team is written here, they have a good chance of winning the entire competition."

Kurt looked over to his former team, and briefly his eyes meant his brothers. Finn gave him a small bow and Kurt's lips twitched as he stuck out his tongue at him before turning back to the front. It seemed that Finn believed that they had it in the bag, but, would the judges agree?

"In second place," she announced, "we have The New Directions, which means that Dalton Academy, you are heading to Nationals!"

Trent's knees buckled beside them, actually buckled, but crushed as they were in a hug by their teammates, he thankfully didn't reach the floor. There were tears now, genuine tears being shed amidst the hugs, laughter, gleeful shouts and "Oh my god!"s. Kurt couldn't blame him, he felt the same way. He couldn't believe it, could barely process it.

They had done it.

They had won.

They had made Dalton history.

They were heading to Nationals!


	23. Conversations and Secrets

Time distorted for Kurt after the announcement. There was a whirl of activities about him, hugs with well-wishers, interviews with reporters and a surprisingly hearty congratulations for him from Mr. Shue. He had to admit, he really had not thought about his former glee director for a long time, but he felt strangely vindicated when the man told him that he had performed excellently. He had not dwelled on the faint traces of bitterness his words aroused in him for long; the pressing events around him didn't allow for that. Finally, thankfully, Finn pulled him away for a well-deserved lunch with the family, followed by a period of relaxation in which he and Blaine simply snuggled on his bed, music wafting quietly in the background. Their phones were both on silent and set aside so that, for now, they could concentrate on each other and the short time together they had.

Kurt dozed for a while, drifting in and out of consciousness, enjoying Blaine's little caresses, rousing at times to murmur things to him that Blaine responded to in an equally soft tone.

"Dad is completely unfair," he murmured eventually into the skin of Blaine's neck. "I did good today."

Blaine chuckled at that, the movement jostling Kurt who made a discontented sound of protest until he settled back down again.

"You did great today, sweetheart," Blaine corrected, kissing his hair.

Kurt tilted his head up enough so that he could meet his hazel gaze, his lower lip protruding the slightest as he said, "If I did great today, why am I grounded?"

"For nearly giving Burt a heart-attack is what I believe he said."

"I haven't been punished since I was twelve Blaine. Twelve! And you didn't even help defend me. It's entirely unfair."

"You scared us all half to death," Blaine answered. "Besides, it's only for a week. It's better than I would have got if my parents had seen me pulling those stunts on stage."

"What, they would have spanked you?" he teased, before bursting into startled laughter when a red tinge coloured Blaine's face. "You're joking right? You got _spanked_?!"

"I have the right to remain silent and I am using it," Blaine grumbled, something that only caused Kurt to chortle.

"Thank you for coming," he said eventually. "It was the best surprise ever."

"You're welcome. I didn't want to tell you about it in case we couldn't manage to pull it off. Wes had brought up the idea of us attending weeks ago, but it took some logistical scheming to ensure that we were all free this weekend. Well, free enough," he amended, as he recalled that he had skipped a lecture and study group to be here.

"Thank you," Kurt whispered, kissing the space between his collar bones, "it meant the world to me."

"It's no problem," he told him sincerely. "Oh and...I decided that I'm coming back to Ohio for Spring Break."

Kurt stiffened, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I thought we agreed-"

"I know what we agreed upon," Blaine interrupted gently, "but I want to come back here Kurt."

"But I'll be in school most of the time," Kurt protested.

"My dad's going to be state side around that time," Blaine explained. "He said he'll hang around Ohio to be with me. So I won't be lonely or alone Kurt and I'll still get to see you. Besides, I am pretty sure no one will mind if I crash a few classes. You _do_ want me here right?"

"Of course," Kurt answered quickly, "I always want you with me. I just...no...I'm glad. This is something you're sure you want to do?"

"This is something I want to do," Blaine confirmed, and wormed a finger under Kurt's chin before kissing him. Kurt deepened the kiss and for a few minutes they lay there, gently making out until, breath uneven, Kurt pulled back in favour of burying his head in the space between Blaine's shoulder and neck. "I love you," he murmured, when he was mostly back in control, and smiled softly when above him, Blaine replied with the same words.

Nick wasn't entirely sure how long he and Jeff had been in his bedroom thus far, just sitting there in awkward silence. Jeff had ran ahead up here once Nick had pulled up in front of the house, leaving him to receive a harsh, judging look from Mrs. Smith alone. He hadn't blamed the woman though, and accepted meekly her threat to dispose of his corpse in an untraceable location if he screwed this up again. No one needed to remind him of how much he had screwed up everything relating to Jeff ever since he had graduated from Dalton, but, he truly hoped that today he could finally start to fix the damage he had wrought.

Nick had tried to start the conversation twice now, but both times the words had died before they had even passed his lips. Instead, he found his gaze drawn to how pitifully small just looked with that pillow held protectively against his chest, and, how much weight had he lost since he had last seen him? The difference was starker now that he was out of his uniform. He could see the way his tee-shirt – one he recalled to be form fitting – hung loosely on him. Was Jeff taking care of himself? Had anyone even noticed the difference in his state?

"How much of our performance did you see?" Jeff asked suddenly, disrupting the silence.

Nick latched onto that opening immediately, grateful for a way to get this conversation started. "I got seated midway through McKinley's act. I came straight from the terminal."

"Everyone seemed surprised that you were there."

"Well I dad been adamant that I wasn't going to come," he admitted. He softly cursed at the way Jeff flinched at that response. That had not been a particularly tactful way of putting that, even though it was the truth. "Look," he hurried on, "our last interaction was a disaster Jeff; we both know that. I didn't know if me coming here would make things worse for you, and I was worried that I would throw you off your game if I showed up unannounced. But…Blaine left me a ticket and a note saying that I was making the stupidest decision of my life, and by midnight, I realised he was right. I had to be here."

Jeff didn't look up, his stare still determinedly on a spot on his rug as he asked, "Why would that have been a mistake?"

"Because I have already done so many things to hurt you," he told him without hesitance. "I've broken a lot, if not all of the promises we have made to each other. I've been an ass to you and it's time I try to fix it."

"How were you so certain I wouldn't have just punched you in the face when I saw you?" Jeff inquired, and now, finally, he looked up at him. "I was thinking about it you know."

"I see you more as a balls-buster," Nick said, only half-joking.

Jeff smiled briefly at that before his face fell back into forced neutrality. "I'm glad you're here Nick…it shocked me…but I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad I'm here. It's given me this chance to finally tell you how sorry I am for how things have worked out between us. I know…I think if I hadn't shown up today that the door between us would have been locked forever. I know you enough to guess that my absence today would have been the last straw for you. The thought of that…of not having you around permanently scared me beyond belief. And that's what finally got me out of that door."

Jeff didn't speak for a while, didn't even look up at him anymore, but Nick knew his body language well enough to see the signs, good signs. The way that the tenseness bled out of him just the slightest, that way he always raised a hand to play with his bangs when he was nearing a decision. And finally, the way Jeff peeked up almost tentatively, as if he was trying to ensure that whatever he was about to say would receive an understanding audience.

"Will you let me speak for a minute?" he asked. "Can you just...listen?"

"I can and I will," Nick promised.

Jeff smiled the slightest when Nick mimicked zipping his lips. "I-I have spent so many nights wondering what I would say if I ever got to speak to you like this again. I've changed the words so many times thinking about how you would react and what you would think of me depending on how I phrased things. I can't blame you for the fundamental fault here...and I can't blame me. I think we both handled this entire situation wrong. You shouldn't have walked out on me, but I shouldn't have sprung that on you. You were right when you said I knew you weren't in love with me. I knew it and I still hoped that maybe you would give in to what I wanted. That...that was pretty selfish of me. I created this dream of what I wanted us to be and I had hoped that you would conform yourself to what I wanted. I'm sorry for that...and for loving you. The fault is mine there."

"Loving me is not a fault," Nick responded, when he was certain that Jeff was done speaking. "You can't help how you feel in the same way that I can't help it. Jeff...if I were gay, we would have been together for years now. I hope you know that. And there have been times when I have wondered if I could do it...change for you. Every time I saw hints that you really were in love with me I tried Jeff, I honestly tried to see if I could love you in the same way but it just doesn't work for me that way. I just don't swing that way and I can't do that to myself or to you. We'd both be trapped in an unfulfilling relationship. And that's probably something I should have told you then and there.

"I love you Jeff. I want you to be in my life for its duration, but not as my lover, but as my best friend, my brother, the wicked cool uncle of my future kids. You're the one who's going to embarrass the hell out of me at my wedding and be right there with me when I'm panicking outside the delivery room. You're the one I want to have my wife and kids eye roll at as we escape the world for an epic bromance of two, and you're the one who's going to be right there beside me in that nursing home pulling pranks on everyone else. That's what I want Jeff, I want you in my life and by my side. But...you aren't the love of my life and I think that with time, you'll see that I'm not the one you're destined to have."

"That's the one thing I want now...the thing I've been afraid I lost. I want you in my life too Nick. And if I can't have you as a boyfriend, then as a friend. You're my oldest friend, my _closest_ friend and I've missed you so damn much it hurts. It hurts so much," he admitted with a tearful laugh.

"I know. Blaine's great to live with, but our friendship is just on another level."

Jeff smiled at that. "We were going to conquer New York by storm."

"We still could," Nick told him, "if you want to? I mean I know one conversation isn't going to fix things, but I want to start fixing it."

"I think we've started," Jeff told him softly, tossing the pillow away and straightening, "I think now we can put things back where they ought to be."

Nick took that for the invitation it was and stood. Jeff met him halfway and they pulled each other into a tight, emotion laden hug. Jeff hummed in contentment as he took it all in, relishing that finally, _finally_ , he and Nick seemed to be working their way back to each other. "I'm sorry I can't fall in love with you," Nick whispered, and Jeff answered equally softly with, "I know. It's okay."

And, he hoped as he pulled away, giving his friend a smile, that one day he could say those words, and not feel as if a knife was twisting just a little more firmly in his heart.

"Come in Blaine," Finn called, without looking up, his eyes still drawn to the unfolding meltdown in the Facebook group.

"How are you doing?" Blaine asked, dropping down onto the bed.

"Not so good," he answered shortly, resisting the urge to slam his laptop close, perhaps chucking it out of the window for good measure.

"Yeah, I know. It can't be easy losing out."

"Oh-what?" Finn said, and finally, he turned away to focus on the older teenager in his room. "No. I'm not upset about the results. Trust me, by the time The Warblers got to the third song, I knew it was all over for us. I'm pretty glad actually. It's just this...aftermath that's bothering me. Kurt's sleeping?"

"Yeah," Blaine confirmed. "I slept a lot on the ride here so I didn't nap for too long. What's going on? Unless you don't want to talk about it?"

"Nah, it isn't anything too bad. The group is just being ridiculous. Rachel's on a war-path. She's saying that the fact that she won an award means that the rest of us failed to meet her standards and that that is why we lost."

"What?" Blaine asked, dumbfounded. "She _did_ watch the same performance right?"

Finn shot him a speaking look. "She also blames me for not showcasing her talent to the fullest extent."

"Because you didn't win Best Male?" Blaine guessed.

"Exactly. She's also questioning if The Warblers deserved to win because only two-thirds of the group actually sung."

"Didn't you guys have to recruit people in to meet the minimum?"

"I know. She's being ridiculous and people are letting her know it, among other things. Mercedes is ripping her a new one, but Santana is wondering why Kurt's still at Dalton if he's 'recovered.'"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Finn sighed. "Back when Kurt joined the Warblers officially, and they found out, they decided that Kurt was sufficiently recovered and should therefore return to Dalton. They thought that we transferred him out for his peace of mind, but if he was back to performing, it obviously meant that he should come back to McKinley were he, quote unquote, belongs."

"So they wanted him to disrupt his schooling yet again as well as his health to what? Sing backup?"

"Exactly," Finn hissed. "Obviously that idea didn't make it past the drawing board, but now Santana's arguing that if Kurt had been back with us, the Warblers would have lost. And Tina is arguing back that Mr. Shue would have never given him any of the opportunities to perform and shine as he got today so him being back would have been a moot point anyway and right now I am this close to just deleting my Facebook entirely," Finn ended with an aggravated sigh. "I'm so tired of all this nonsense Blaine. I can't deal with it and I'm not entirely sure I want to deal with them anymore."

Blaine offered him a sympathetic look. He had known that Finn wasn't finding McKinley entirely too comfortable…hadn't for a while. He doubted that he had ever told Kurt about it, but from what Finn had said to him numerous times, he knew that he was starting to suffer from the 'big fish in a small pond' syndrome. Kurt's situation had forced him to mature and to mature fast. Things that seemed so important to his classmates were largely irrelevant to him now, and his friends often thought that he was coming across as cocky because of it. Finn simply didn't have the patience to pretend to fit in anymore, and by virtue of that had started to alienate himself.

"I'm sorry that this is happening," he told him, "but it's your choice if you want to leave. It's a lot of chaos that you really don't need to deal with. Deactivate for a while if you want, or you can just unfriend all of them. I wish I could help more."

"Nah, it's fine man. You've helped me a lot already. And, dropping glee might be good. I can add those extra hours to helping Ms P. I wouldn't have thought to talk to her in the first place if you hadn't suggested it you know. The community service hours I'm putting in now is going to make my applications look so good, and Ms P even has a few connections."

"I'm glad my advice helped," Blaine answered enthusiastically. "I want the best for you too you know."

"I know. I'm thinking that I'll be good with that, football and basketball. It shouldn't look too bad if I drop out of glee now right?"

"No," Blaine said after a moment's thought. "A lot of clubs tend to disband for the year if they're primarily competition based and haven't advanced any further. It may actually look good; you're redeploying your time in a productive way."

"Remind me to practice with you before any interviews I manage to snag," Finn joked. "Speaking of which…"

"What is it?"

Finn frowned, his expression darkening. "I was supposed to tell you…NYADA called on Wednesday."

"What?" Blaine said in disbelief. "Rachel actually did it? She applied for him?"

"She did," Finn replied, and now anger coloured his tone. "She listed the landline as his contact number and Burt got the call. Instead of interviews, NYADA has auditions, and the representative is going to be in Ohio soon."

"Kurt made it to the audition round?"

"Yeah, which apparently is a big deal if the way Rachel was acting when she got her call is anything to go by. I mean it's a good thing, a great thing even. But it's still an absolutely horrible situation."

"Does Kurt know?" Blaine asked, his mind running with the implications of what he had learnt. His boyfriend hadn't mentioned any of that to him, and something drastic like this was definitely something he would have shared.

"Does Kurt know what?"

The pair froze at the new voice, and turning they saw Kurt standing in the doorway. Neither of them had noticed the door opening, and now they were faced with a sleepy but obviously curious stare from the teenager.

"Is this what you do?" Kurt continued, closing the door, "you wait until I'm asleep and then you sneak off for conversations with Finn? I feel asleep with my very own human pillow Blaine Devon."

Despite the situation Blaine's lips quirked at the scolding tone. "Sorry sweetheart."

"Mmmhmm," Kurt said, before moving to the bed and dropping down beside him, cuddling close. "Now, what is this lady chat about? What don't I know?"

Blaine shot Finn a slightly worried look, not sure how to proceed. He had his answer now; Kurt didn't know and if they told him, he was pretty certain that Burt would kill them both.

"I'm going to start volunteering at the community centre," Finn said after a moment. "I'm dropping glee and adding those hours to that."

Kurt's brows furrowed at that. "You're volunteering? For what?"

"I started helping out Mrs. P a while back. Just filing and reviewing stuff. She teaches me in return, about psychology and social work."

"Oh...I did not know that."

Finn chuckled, and Blaine hoped that the edge of nervousness to his voice was something only detectable to him. "Yeah, that's what Blaine was asking. It was news to him as well. He thought it was something you would have mentioned."

"Well, community service looks good to colleges," Kurt said decisively, "so that's a good thing. Now, what else are you two hiding from me?"

Blaine bit off an oath; trust his boyfriend to realise that all was not being said to him.

They hesitated a bit too long, he supposed, because Kurt let out a disgruntled sigh before glaring at them each in turn as he stood. "Fine, keep your secrets," he declared. "It's not like you two know everything about me anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Finn inquired.

Kurt's lips pursed briefly, in that way Blaine knew meant that he was quickly deciding upon what he should say. "You're not the only one hiding things," he repeated, a bit crankily.

"Like?" Blaine couldn't help but asking.

"Like the fact that my therapists think I should defer college a year," he said quickly, and, before either of them could fully process what he had said, Kurt left the room, the door closing behind him loudly in the silence that had suddenly descended.


	24. Celebrations

They didn't chase after him for the truth. They hadn't been sure that he would give them more information than he already had, so they had gone to a higher power – Burt – who, rather reluctantly informed them that yes, Kurt had been truthful. His therapist thought that a year or so focussed entirely on his rehabilitation would potentially shave off years of his long-term recovery time. It was something his son had been sitting on for over a month, but so far he had deliberately not stated his stance on the matter in fear of it influencing Kurt. It was something that only his son should have the right to decide. They, rather reluctantly, agreed with him.

"Except," Finn said as they wandered into the kitchen for a snack, "Kurt wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't want us to know…and maybe offer an opinion. Wouldn't he?"

"He was annoyed with us," Blaine reasoned, dipping a celery stick into some humus. "He doesn't like when we don't tell him things, so he might have just brought it up out of spite. That was a nice save by the way."

"Would have been nicer if it had worked completely," Finn correctly. "He's bound to press for more information eventually."

"I know."

"What do you think he should do?" Finn inquired, before taking a large bite out of his sandwich.

"I want him in New York with me," he bluntly replied, "and yeah, I know that probably sounds really selfish of me."

"I want him out of Ohio too," Finn said. "Dalton is kind of like an oasis. Once he's out of it, reality here is going to return to being pretty stark."

"He'll love New York."

"I don't doubt that. But if his recovery could be sped up…"

Blaine sighed, settling for eating a bit more instead of responding. It was a complicated issue all around. He had just about finished putting on dressing on a sandwich for Kurt when they heard light, airy footsteps approaching. They both turned to watch as Kurt entered the room, his hair damp and in different clothes.

"I've decided to forgive you," he informed them.

"How kind of you," Finn deadpanned, but Blaine didn't answer.

It wasn't that Kurt wasn't still mad that they had held something back from him; he had probably panicked after realising exactly what he had told them and he was now trying to pretend that nothing had happened, and was hoping that they would play along. Deciding that it would be best to play along, Blaine slid the sandwich on a plate over to him.

"Thanks," Kurt said. "I need you two to help me with something."

"What?" Blaine inquired, moving to the fridge to get some juice.

"Dad needs to not ground me until tomorrow."

"Why?"

"I turned our phones back on. David's put together a party and we're going. _All of us_ ," he added, pinning Finn with a stern look. "If the nonsense on your Facebook is anything to go by, you need some fun."

"You were on my laptop?"

"You left it open," Kurt responded pertly. "Now I've already confirmed we're going, and Jeff said that he and Nick are coming as well."

"Together?" Blaine asked, surprised.

"I'm as shocked as you are," Kurt said. "It must have been quite the conversation between them. So you two need to help me get un-grounded and then we're going to find you," he stated, pointing at Blaine, "something to wear or else we're going to have to stop over at your house first. Your outfit's already set out Frankenteen, so go start convincing dad while I eat this."

"Now I see where these rumours are coming from," Wes said loudly, leaning closer to Blaine so that he could hear him.

"What rumours?" Blaine asked, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of a pair of juniors hanging around the punchbowl David had set up a little too long. There were freshmen at the party, just a handful, but Blaine decided to tell the alumni present to keep an eye on them. No-one should have to deal with a hangover at fifteen.

"About Kurt and Jeff," he clarified, "well...and at times _you_."

Blaine followed his friend's gaze and he cocked an eyebrow as he caught sight of Kurt and Jeff together out on the dancefloor. They looked good together, he thought, his eyes lingering on the way Jeff led them easily, gyrating close to Kurt with Kurt's hand wrapped low on his waist. He and his boyfriend had spent a while on the floor together, but eventually he had surrendered him over to Andrew, and he supposed now Jeff was having a go. His lips curled ever so slightly when Kurt's back came into view; his ass looked really good in those tight jeans.

"Oh keep your thoughts clean," Wes groaned, swatting his arm.

Blaine gave him a sheepish grin. No one could ever deny that he found his boyfriend a beauty to look at, especially with how he was slowly but surely filling out. His adorable boyfriend was quickly becoming a handsome (but still cute) adult and he enjoyed the changes he was seeing in him. He pulled Wes with him as he caught sight of a free double seater, dropping down onto it. They were a bit further away from the music now, making conversation a lot easier.

"Which rumours?" he asked again. "The one where Kurt and Jeff are a thing, or the one where all three of us are together?"

"Both?" Wes offered. "Although, you don't seem at all bothered."

"I know where Kurt's heart lies," he answered easily, "and unfortunately, Jeff's." His eyes briefly sought out and lingered on Nick, who was engaged in conversation with a couple of juniors on the lacrosse team he had mentored. "They love each other, but I know it is just platonic. If Kurt and I had broken up last year, I'm pretty certain that they would have gotten together. It wouldn't have lasted I think…but it would have comforted both of them for the while.

"That's why I'm okay with them now, and their closeness. Jeff's hurting, and Kurt is all he's got to cling onto right now outside of his family. Jeff will never cross the line though, and I know that Kurt won't let him, so I have nothing to worry about. Jeff could dance with Kurt every day for a year, hell, make out with him for that time span, but I know that I'm the one Kurt's going to come home to in the end. I have nothing to fear."

"That's a level of trust very few have," Wes told him.

"I guess it is," Blaine said with a soft smile, "but I have nothing but faith in him."

"Are you really okay?" Kurt asked, allowing Jeff to pull him close as the music slowed.

The party environment didn't allow for detailed conversation, but Kurt had let his eyes do his investigation for him. Jeff and Nick had indeed arrived together, and while it was impossible to know if everything had been sorted out, their bodies had seemed relaxed, as if the tension between them was largely gone. He had even spotted them dancing together for a bit earlier before Jeff had stolen him away from Blaine. Kurt moved so that he could look into Jeff's eyes, noting that he still saw sadness lurking there, but that, thankfully the intensity of it had lessened a bit. It was better than nothing, he wagered.

Jeff spun him around once before responding. "I will be okay?"

Kurt huffed at that, but didn't comment, instead resting his cheek on Jeff's shoulder, allowing his eyes to drop close. Jeff pulled him in a bit tighter, and Kurt relaxed fully, letting his friend lead him through the song. Jeff was a tactile person. This – their closeness – was more than enough to convey what words would not be able to. Kurt hummed slightly when one of Jeff's hands drifted up to cradle his head, and heading the request, he rose up enough to look at him again.

"Your boyfriend is staring at us," he said, and Kurt chuckled at the mischievous edge to his tone. "I think he's jealous."

"Well you have been monopolising me," he murmured, laughing outright when Jeff twisted them enough so that he could stick a tongue out at Blaine. Even from this distance he could see the way Blaine rolled his eyes before he casually flipped Jeff off before refocusing on Wes.

"He's not going to have you again this night," Jeff chirruped, and Kurt's amusement doubled as Jeff started spinning them wildly for a moment, not caring about the pace of the song that was now drifting to a close. He pulled him back to him. "Let's go to Narnia Kurtsie," he said seriously. "They've got talking lions."

"And a distinct lack of people and technology," Kurt pointed out.

"That is not necessarily a bad thing," he rebutted. "We could be kings Kurtsie. Kings!"

"Kings without princes," he answered. As they shifted, Kurt saw Phillip across the room. He had a cup in his hand, and seemed to be half-listening to what George was telling him, and half-watching them with a look of longing on his face. Kurt couldn't shake his expression from his mind, and as they moved, his mind ran quickly over the possibilities. Nick being here would perhaps complicate things a bit, but if they really had sorted out their issues…

"Come with me," he said after the song ended. "I have a new partner for you."

"Blaine's not jealous enough," Jeff complained with a pout, but still followed. "Awww, did I make your crush jealous too?" he asked as he saw that they were heading towards Phillip.

"In a way," Kurt agreed, unwilling to get drawn back into that recurring debate. He felt a bit bad as they stopped in front of them. George had fallen silent and was now just observing and Phillip – Phillip's eyes were wide as if he was shocked by their sudden presence in front of him. "Hi Phillip.

"H-hey Kurt," he responded, "Jeff."

"Are you up for a dance? If you don't mind George? I know we're interrupting your conversation."

George smirked as he caught the edge to Kurt's voice. He was quite the perceptive one and Kurt knew that he had already figured out where this was leading. "Not at all," he stated, and he reached out to take away Phillip's cup.

Jeff huffed although Kurt felt him release his hand anyway. "Fine. I'll surrender you for one song Kurt, just one."

"Actually," Kurt said pertly, stepping to the side, "I'm surrendering _you_ to _him_ …for three songs minimum. This is your chance Phillip. This one," he stated, gesturing to Jeff with his thumb, "thinks that you're crushing on me. Set him straight okay?"

George none too subtly pushed Phillip forward so that he was standing in front of Jeff, his cheeks flaming at Kurt's declarative words.

"Kurtsie, how many times do I have to tell you-"

"The universe itself knows that Phillip isn't interested in me Jeff," Kurt said, cutting him off. "And if you were really paying attention, you would have figured that out long ago. He hangs around me because he's too shy to tell _you_ how he feels. Now go. Three songs minimum. I _will_ be watching."

And, before either of them could say anything, Kurt walked away in search of a drink, hoping that he had done the right thing.

Kurt was on Blaine's lap – straddling it – as he stole a next kiss from him. Perhaps it was the punch or just the euphoria from the environment getting to him, but right now his shyness was entirely on the back burner, and he relished the feel of Blaine's chest underneath his hand. He vaguely noted that this perhaps was why so many people hooked up at parties, although he knew without doubt that there was only one naturally curly haired guy that he would ever consider doing that with. Pulling back only for a quick breath, Kurt dived right back in, letting his tongue tease its way between Blaine's lips.

"Eww guys."

Kurt pulled back, annoyed, as he turned to glare at Finn. "Really?" he hissed, "That still? After all this time?"

"Always."

"You finally read the final Harry Potter books then," Blaine said, looking at him. Kurt thumped his chest once. Here he was breathless with voice slightly shaky, and Blaine seemed entirely too composed.

"You did gift them to me," Finn answered, and to Kurt's displeasure, he dropped down into the space beside them, deliberately grinning into Kurt's annoyed face. "Never took you for an exhibitionist kiddo. It seems like only yesterday when you were still just a blushing virgin. They grow up so fast."

"I'm still a – oh you!" Kurt spat out, his annoyance giving way to embarrassment. "Get him Blaine!"

"Don't tease your brother Finn," Blaine dutifully said, before maneuvering Kurt so that he was now sitting much more chastely across his lap.

Finn mock groaned when Kurt let his legs thump down hard against his thighs before he automatically started rubbing them with a hand.

"Weren't you chatting up some blonde Crawford chick?" Kurt asked crossly.

"Her name is Amanda, and she just left," Finn answered happily.

"Got a number?" Blaine inquired.

"Yup."

"Nice dude!" Blaine crowed, and Kurt rolled his eyes as they high-fived. "This is way too fratty sounding a conversation," he pointed out. "I do not approve of Blaine the wingman."

"Sorry sweetheart," he apologised, pecking Kurt's cheek.

"Anyway," Finn said, interrupting them when Blaine made to kiss Kurt again - how much of that punch did they have? "I really came over to tell you guys that I'm heading out."

"It's still early," Kurt pointed out. "Besides, aren't you going to stay the night at Blaine's with us?"

"I was," he answered, "but I'm pretty much all danced and talked out now. I had a good time, but I can make it back to Lima before one if I leave now."

"You sure?" Blaine asked.

"I'm sure," he confirmed, dislodging Kurt's legs so he could rise. "Just text me when you guys get home okay? I'll probably still be up."

"We will."

Finn bent to kiss Kurt's forehead, and patted Blaine's shoulder once before he walked off with a last, "Later dudes."

The pair watched as he disappeared into the crowd. "He seemed to be in a hurry," Kurt pointed out.

"Probably got the blonde on his mind," Blaine deduced. "Nick's done the same before. Once you get a number it seems that all you want to do is get home to talk to them."

"That makes sense," Kurt allowed, before snuggling close into Blaine, deciding not to worry about his brother anymore. He would be fine.

"Are you okay?" Blaine inquired as he felt Kurt's growing relaxation. "If you're tired we can head out as well you know. No one will mind."

Kurt shook his head. "I still wanna dance some more," he stated. "My muscles will kill me for it in the morning, but this is the first party I've been to in so long and I want to savour it."

"I'll give you that massage I promised in the morning," Blaine murmured into his ear.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Kurt returned with equal softness.

They cuddled for a while, Kurt choosing to remain silent, leaving any passing conversations to Blaine. Eventually he straightened when in his periphery a camera flashed and he heard Jeff coo, "Aren't they adorable?"

"Are we interrupting something?" Nick asked.

"Didn't I palm you off on Phillip?" Kurt groused as he caught the twinkle in the blonde's eyes.

"He's dancing with his friends now," Jeff told him and Kurt was a bit gratified to see him shift uncomfortably. He would press him for more information later. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that one night of dancing would change anything, but he really hoped that at least now Jeff would realise that he had options outside of the dark haired college student standing beside him.

"How may we help you gentlemen?" Blaine inquired, ignoring Kurt's protesting mewl as he nudged him off his lap.

"David's dug out his karaoke set," Nick explained. "He's set it up in the game room for anyone who wants a different form of fun. We thought we'd ask if you guys were interested."

"We haven't sung a duet in over twelve hours Kurtsie," Jeff added dramatically.

"How have we survived," Kurt gasped out, throwing his hand against his forehead with equal flourish. "I'm sorry honey," he said, looking at Blaine, "but this is an emergency situation we _must_ rectify immediately!"

"Save a duet for me," Blaine requested wryly as Kurt hopped up and interlaced his arm with Jeff before letting him lead him away. Turning back to Nick, whose gaze still lingered on Jeff's receding back, he said, "Let's go dance for a bit first."

"Drinks first," Nick requested, and nodded, they walked to the drink's station. "What do you want to talk about?" he added after he had passed him a cup. "I know you don't really want to dance with me."

"You know me too well," Blaine said, taking a sip. "Are you doing okay? I really haven't had the time to check in on you today."

"I'm fine," he answered. "I feel a lot better now, and I think I've finally started smoothing things out with him."

"I'm glad," Blaine told him. "I'm really proud of you for coming you know."

"Thanks Blainers. That means a lot. It wasn't easy to do, and I don't think I've even started fully making it up to him."

"It'll take time," he acknowledged, "but I'm putting my faith into the two of you. I'm sure you can do it."

"I hope you're right," Nick said softly, "I really do want the best for him."


	25. The Truth Emerges

Brian Kentwood ran his finger along the list that had been included into Kurt's school records one more time, as if the action alone would miraculously add in the name of the institution that was causing him confusion. He sighed, and closed the file with a snap, dropping his head back against the back of his chair. What exactly was going on here? He considered his options; it was nearly ten thirty. The students would have a twenty minute break soon and he could easily just request the secretary to call Kurt here to the administration office. Except…something told Brian that he was better off going above Kurt's head in this instance. This just didn't seem right, and it was definitely not a situation he wanted to stumble into blindly. Drumming his fingers against his desk for a minute or so, he decided that that indeed was the better option for now.

Putting action to his thoughts, Brian quickly located and dialled the number for the business place, knowing that he would faster get through to the man via that route than by trying a cell-phone he usually ignored during work times. It was only when he heard an urgent edge colour the receptionist's voice as she promised to call Burt did Brian regret not prefacing his words with "Kurt is fine". Dammit, he thought as he waited. He should have realised how it would have come across – an unexpected call in the middle of the day from his son's school. He wouldn't doubt that both Burt and the receptionist was worried now.

"There's nothing wrong with Kurt," he said quickly, the moment Burt came onto the line.

There was a brief moment of silence and even over the line, Brian could tell that an immediate wave of relaxation seeped into the senior Hummel's being. "That's a relief," Burt stated, "I got scared for a moment there Brian."

"Sorry," he apologised, "Kurt is fine. It's just that something's come up and I thought it would be better to talk to you about it first before going to Kurt."

"Ah…okay," Burt responded. "Wait…don't tell me he actually decided to go along with Sterling's Pyjama Tuesday idea?"

Brian groaned at that, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. His long-time student had taken to alternating between morose broodiness and advanced levels of mischief recently. Brian understood that Mr. Sterling was going through some trying times personally, and that allowances should be made, but, as dean of the seniors, he dreaded the extra labour Jeff's shenanigans often foisted upon him. "Thanks for the heads up on that," he said ruefully, "but…no, he isn't in any trouble. This is actually about college."

"Oh?"

"We received a request this morning. They want us to set up an interview with Kurt, and for us to forward his transcripts."

"It's a bit early for interviews, isn't it?"

"Yeah well, this school seems to work a bit differently. But, why I'm really calling Burt is that I don't understand why The New York Academy of Dramatic Arts is interested in Kurt. He never listed it on his list of schools and well…personally I know he's not interested in performing anymore. So I'm wondering how this has come about."

Brian politely pretended he did not hear the series of curses that passed across their connection before Burt finally spat out, "They're a damn persistent bunch!"

"What's going on?" he asked.

Brian could only sit there and listen with disbelief at the story that Burt then related to him. An only persistent ex-classmate of Kurt's had gone over everyone's heads and sent in an application for him? Did those things really happen in real life? "I thought I had set them straight last week when they called," Burt finished tiredly. "This interview thing must be tied into the audition Kurt's qualified for. I told the woman that he wasn't interested and to just drop it."

The aggravation in his voice was understandable. "Well he is eighteen," Brian explained, "so technically they didn't have to listen to you. I'm also guessing by your reaction that Kurt doesn't know about this?"

"He doesn't," he confirmed. "I didn't plan on telling him at all. I'd thought they'd just listen to me, realise that that application was sent without his knowledge or consent and let it drop. Kurt's given up on musical theatre and I don't want this to stir things back up for him. The kid's only got a few more months of school. I don't want him concerned with such miscellaneous things."

"I can understand that," Brian commiserated, "but...unless Kurt officially tells us not to, we _have_ to follow up with the school and make provisions for the interview."

"You can't just pretend they didn't call?" he said, only half-joking.

"I wish I could do that," he told him honestly. "What do you want to happen? Should I talk to Kurt about it or would you rather me leave it to you?"

Burt was silent for several seconds. "It's a no-win situation either way," he said.

"Basically.

Burt sighed again. "This shouldn't be your responsibility."

"It's fine Burt. It's part of the territory."

"I'll tell you what," Burt said after a moment's consideration. "Can you schedule a meeting with him for later today? It's not too busy in the shop. I can be there and we can just hash this out together."

"That'll be great Burt," Brian agreed. "I'll see you then."

"So that's the situation bud." Burt said, looking at his son. Kurt was paler than usual, had been from the time he had realised exactly what the conversation was about. It was just one more reason Burt was looking forward to a conversation with the Berry seniors. They seriously needed to get a handle on their kid if she believed that she had the right to meddle with people's lives to this extent.

"Let me get this straight," Kurt eventually began, his voice thin and slightly shaky in a way that signalled that he was struggling to keep a check on her emotions, "Rachel applied to NYADA for me, and now they want me to audition for the school?"

"Basically," Mr. Kentwood responded. "Now the most important thing to note here Kurt is that you do not have to do this. You can say the word now and that will end this matter immediately. I will contact the school and inform them that you have decided against continuing the application process."

Kurt wasn't entirely focussed on his teacher's words though, too caught up in the realisation that NYADA of all places was showing some interest in him. "This must be a joke," he stated, mostly to himself.

"It isn't Kurt," Burt told him gently. "Look bud, I'm sorry this is happening, but now we've got to figure out what you want to do."

It was only when Burt carefully dropped a hand down onto Kurt's knee that he looked up at him. "I don't know what I want to do. I-I don't want to talk about this. Do I have to talk about this…and decide? Do I have to decide now?"

There was an edge of hysteria creeping into his tone that added a next nail to the coffin of Rachel Berry in Burt's mind. The bald man shot a questioning look at Mr. Kentwood, silently asking if he indeed needed to confirm a decision now.

"You don't have to," he responded immediately. "You have time Kurt."

"Thank you sir," Kurt said, but even as he said it, he started jiggling his leg agitatedly. "Daddy? Home now please? I don't want to be here right now."

Burt correctly interpreted his son's words as a plea for the solitude that his bedroom would provide him. His mind was too chaotic with the revelation; sitting in a classroom of boys trying to focus on work while also pretending that nothing was wrong was a bit above his capabilities right about now.

"Sure thing bud," he told him immediately. "Brian?"

"I'll organise a pass for him," he responded, rising. "Kurt, why don't you go and grab your stuff? It's Thursday anyway, so make sure to collect the materials you'll need for the weekend."

"Yes sir."

It was only when they had reached the perimeters of Lima that Kurt spoke, asking "Does Finn know about this?"

Burt, almost reluctantly, replied affirmatively. "Rachel had asked him to tape a performance of yours a while back. He'd told her off, but she went over his head."

Kurt huffed. "I knew she was upset that I didn't want to apply. But to do this?"

"Yeah…I didn't expect this from her. Makes me glad she and Finn really ended things for good."

"Blaine probably knows as well," Kurt continued in a musing tone. "That's probably what he and Finn were talking about. I _knew_ they were hiding something from me."

"Don't be mad at them," Burt cautioned. "They just didn't want you to worry about this. Carole and I didn't want you to know about this either."

"I'm not upset daddy," Kurt told him, and Burt could sense the sincerity in his tone, "well not much. I'm a bit irritated that you guys don't trust me to handle these things, but I understand why."

"It's not us babying you, kiddo. We just don't want you set back, is all."

"I know," Kurt replied, "trust me I know. It's just...I'm not sixteen anymore you know? I've got to start to handle these things on my own. You guys can't protect me forever."

"And don't think that doesn't kill me," Burt admitted, swinging onto their street. "After Elizabeth...you became my reason for living bud. I swore to her that I would keep you safe from everything, no matter what. I failed you once and I promised myself to never let that happen again."

"You didn't fail me daddy. I-I should have said something long before it had gotten to that point."

"Should have made it that you weren't too worried to tell me about it."

"Going to start blaming yourself for all those bacon enriched sandwiches?" Kurt asked wryly and despite himself, Burt chuckled.

"I think we both go a bit far with the blame game, huh?"

"At times," Kurt allowed, watching as his dad parked the car.

"You're going to be okay, bud?" Burt asked seriously, clasping him on the shoulder.

"I have a lot of thinking to do," Kurt admitted. "I-you'd think that this would be a simple thing huh? But...a part of me is curious...like they want _me_ to audition. That means they know about this and are still interested in me. It's weird huh."

"Kind of," Burt agreed, as they exited the vehicle. "Whatever you decide to do bud, just know that we'll all stand behind you, no matter what. Okay?"

"Thanks daddy," Kurt answered and slung his arm around him in a hug, "that means the world to me."

"So I'm definitely not in trouble for hiding this from you?" Blaine asked dubiously, meeting Kurt's gaze. "I shouldn't be ordering you flowers or a few new magazines?"

"Well you know I'll never turn down some new fashion mags," Kurt told him with a small laugh, "but no Blaine, I'm not mad at you. But don't tell Finn. I'm going to make him sweat for a few more hours."

"Evil."

"Well he deserves it," Kurt declared. "Thanks for coming on like this. I know you have an exam to study for."

"Hey now," Blaine told him sincerely, "you're my top priority remember?"

"I know," Kurt said softly, his eyes reflecting the love he felt for the teenager. "I'll let you get back to studying. Text me after your exam tomorrow?"

"If this your way of telling me not to call you again tonight?" Blaine inquired with a slight point.

"Go study your boring economics, Anderson," Kurt retorted.

"So mean to me," Blaine fake whined, before, more seriously adding, "if you need me sweetheart, call. If not I will talk to you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too honey," Kurt answered sincerely, before letting him go.

Kurt shut his laptop down soon after he ended his Skype call and switched his phone off. He didn't have to worry about the alarm. Carole would wake him up for his session in the morning. He settled onto his window-seat after turning off his lights, looking out into the street below, watching as it settled down for the night. What was he supposed to do?

NYADA wanted him to audition. _The_ NYADA. He had been honest to Rachel back in December. He didn't see himself performing in the future anymore. Nevertheless, time had not eradicated the information he and Rachel had found out back when they had first heard about the Academy. Hundreds, if not thousands of people applied to NYADA every year, and only a fraction of those persons made it through to the audition round. That in itself was an accomplishment. He had no idea why he had made it through. What had Rachel written or sent for them to be interested in him in this way? Unless her deception had gone to that extreme level, none of the recommendation letters he knew the school required had been forwarded. Mr. Kentwood had mentioned his willingness to pen a letter for him if he decided on doing the audition, and Kurt knew he could easily get two other teachers to do the same. But was that necessary? Did he want that? Did he truly want to open back up that door?

What if Rachel hadn't mentioned his arm? What if he agreed to the audition and when the representative appeared they took one look at him and didn't bother to go on with it? Kurt didn't know how he would take that, if he could handle that level of rejection. He had had to list his arm as a disability on most of his applications. What if NYADA's hadn't required that, assuming that only the physically fit would apply to such a top-notch institution? Kurt groaned, and buried his head for long moments against his pulled up knees. He was glad he had had the foresight to take some anxiety pills earlier. He didn't want to imagine how chaotic his mind and emotions would be currently otherwise.

He let out a huff and straightened, looking outside again, this time rather unseeingly. Everything was planned out. He had applied to a bunch of colleges, admittedly in some cases for different majors, but largely there was a pattern. Fashion. Journalism. Literature. French. Three of his choice colleges gave him the freedom to do courses in all four. That was what he wanted, because that was what, in the last two or so years, he had excelled at. He had tested into senior French when he had first joined Dalton, alongside Junior English, English Literature and Art History. He'd finished all those subjects by now of course, and had managed to get nothing below a B+ in any of them. It was largely why he could have a three and a half day school week now to focus on his rehabilitation. Even though he had had the choice, he didn't bother to pick up additional classes once he had fulfilled all the requirements for those four.

He was good at those things, and hell, he had been interested in Fashion way longer than he had had liked performing. But still, he had to admit that now the panic and fear of the stage was past him, he could recall the appeal of it. Being on the stage felt great. He loved performing with the Warblers. The sight of the crowd, the applause after a good performance, it was invigorating. And he loved Broadway. Blaine's surprise of going to see Wicked had been the best possible gift for him. He had enjoyed every second of it, marvelled at the fact that actors could lose themselves so deeply into a role that they became the person and conveyed their story with such love and passion that they moved people to their feet and to tears.

That was something Kurt had wanted to do. To evoke such reactions from people through his craft. But then again, he also loved the appeal of becoming someone else continuously. He remembered being fascinated by an interview with an actor once. The man had claimed that when he committed to a role, he _committed_. He became that person to the extent that his 'real' self was secondary, to the point where he went through a shock whenever the role was complete and he had to rediscover who he was. And, to a sixteen year old teenager who had been suffering from endless bullying, that idea right there felt downright amazing.

But, he wasn't that boy anymore. He had had nothing but love and support since then. He loved being Kurt Hummel, disability and all, because that Kurt Hummel had built for himself since then friends, family and a boyfriend with whom he would have for the rest of his life. This Kurt wasn't afraid of repercussions for putting his all into his schoolwork. That Kurt was careful not to openly excel in his work. He did enough during the term to just float below the radar, but aced all his exams to ensure that he maintained a B average. In Dalton there was no need to hold back. Indeed, at times Kurt had had to push himself that much harder to keep abreast of his classmates. Now Kurt wasn't ashamed to say that academic wise, he was in the top three percentile of his class, wacky schedule and all.

He was different now, confident in himself (mostly) and confident in what he could and could not do. Therefore, could he confidently say that he had no interest in auditioning for NYADA? Or would he saying no just be a reaction to his past, an admittance of fear, an admittance that he truly had not one hundred percent overcome all of his problems? He wasn't sure he could. But neither did he feel that he wanted to rock the boat, to open up that part of his life again.

What was he to do then? Should he say yes? What harm was there? It wasn't as if there was any real guarantee that he would get admitted anyway. That was a hell of a long shot and the odds were very often rarely in his favour. Only twenty people were admitted into that program so he was positive that he wouldn't get in anyway. Therefore he shouldn't waste his time and bother. But then again, he could do it, just to prove to himself that he could. And once he did it...he would feel...what? Accomplished? He wasn't sure.

Even when he finally gave up and went to bed, Kurt still had not decided what his best course of actions would be.


	26. The Audition

If asked, Kurt would readily admit that he had not really prepared for this. Agreeing was one thing, but truthfully, until the call had arrived confirming the time and date for his performance, he had not given it much thought. He hadn't wanted to and so he had pushed it into the recesses of his mind. And, even when he knew what was to come, he didn't bother to do much. It wasn't that he regretted the decision he had made. He just didn't think that he should put so much of his energy into this, not when the finals for the Acapella competition was the week after. He had his priorities straight after all.

But, when he had entered the Senior Commons Room that Mr. Kentwood had deliberately booked for this, he briefly regretted not putting more thought into this. He silently thanked the man as he took a seat after the woman waved to one. This was his room, his turf, the place where he had had some of his best experiences. That space behind the woman? He and Jeff regularly spread out there in their free moments, looking up at the decorated ceiling as they talked about everything and anything. That expansive window to her right? He and Blaine had cuddled countless times there as they stared out below. The room in its entirety? This was where his Warblers - his family - gathered officially three times a week. This room represented a second, intimate home to him. He had nothing to fear in here. The tension he had felt upon seeing the woman's expression faded away, and so he was able to meet her gaze confidently.

"Thank you for taking the time to see me, Mrs. Tibedeaux," he said by way of greeting.

"Likewise, Mr. Hummel," she responded, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. "Now usually this is where I would invite you to sing, but your situation thus far has been a bit...unorthodox and there are some things I would like to find out beforehand."

"That's fine," he agreed, giving her a wry smile, "I guess it's unusual for someone to have an application sent in for them."

"Extremely," she agreed, flipping through a file on her lap, "it was unusual enough that it was forwarded directly to me, and, I must admit, when I saw the tape of your performance, my curiosity was aroused."

"What performance was that?" he asked. "I never did find out what was sent."

"You were taped performing "Blackbird"."

Kurt's lips quirked at that. That performance had been dedicated to the - at that time - recently deceased Parvotti, and Kurt would admit now it was a bit embarrassing how emotional they had all gotten over the death of a tiny bird. "Oh."

"What struck me about that performance," she said, "was the raw vulnerability in your voice that yet, somehow had an underlying strength to it. There was something in that song of yours, something quite amazing, almost as if you yourself were being wooed by your own song. I wanted to experience that in person."

"Thank you," Kurt said simply.

"I'm hoping you have something similarly meaningful to sing for me today."

The vague ideas of what he should sing suddenly concretised into a solid idea. Briefly Kurt considered the USB in his pocket, filled with melodies he had acquired over the course of the school year. There were a few in there that could work, he quickly thought, but his mind kept drifting back to one song in particular. As his mind returned yet again to the song, a smile curved on his lips. Fine, he thought, he would sing it.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm doing this without any accompaniment," he said, rising from his seat. "Dalton has spoiled me that way. I've come to enjoy the simplicity of it."

The woman only nodded shortly and Kurt took a few steps back, closing his eyes for a long moment, thinking back to that night after he had found out about all of this, and that song that, in the middle of his musings, had started wafting from his next door neighbour's house. It had seemed perfectly timed, and it was that song that had finally encouraged him to put it all aside to dwell upon another next. It had reminded him that he wasn't alone in his decision and that he should not stress about it. And so, even though he had never sung it before, his lips parted, and he began. The words for "I Want To Hold Your Hand" left him easily, and even when he opened his eyes and looked at the woman's impassive face, he saw not her, but his own face, the face of his younger self who had listened to those very words back then with tears racing down his cheeks, back when everything was topsy-turvy, when he had realised that now he no longer had his dad to himself and wondered if he would come to prefer Finn to him. To that version of himself who was hated for being gay and wondered if he would ever have his chance at love. To the version of him that cried while telling himself that he was forever alone.

Kurt sang to that version of him, and envisioned his younger self looking at him with shock, whole and yet broken, taking in this version of himself who, through his words, was urging him not to give up, to realise that all he had to do was open himself up and he would find someone, find so many people who would willing take his hand and help him find himself out of that abyss. There were people who did and would love him for who he was, and that he didn't need to bury himself under all of those layers - beautiful layers though they be - as a defensive mechanism.

By the time Kurt warbled out the last note, and refocussed entirely on the now, he was a bit surprised to find his vision slightly blurry. He let out a soft chuckle as he blinked back the moisture, before looking at Mrs. Tibedeaux. She met his gaze for a long moment, and then, to his shock, she smiled, _actually smiled_ at him.

"And that is what I saw that day on the tape," she told him honestly, "why I simply had to meet you. Come, sit. Let us chat for a bit more okay?"

"Yes ma'am," Kurt replied and took the seat, a bit stunned at that response.

"I won't pry into your motivation," she told him, "that we will get into at a later time. Based on your school records, I noted that there was a year-long gap between you participating in a glee club. Might I enjoy as to the cause of this?"

"I was attacked," he replied easily, used to telling the story now. "It's why I had to transfer here. I had been practicing and two of my bullies attacked and stabbed me. The mere thought of singing, far less performing, was enough to terrify me back then. It wasn't until my boyfriend's club - well my club now - was in crisis that I managed to sing again, and it's gotten easier and easier to from that point on."

"Incredibly easy if your Regional performance was anything to go by."

"You saw that?" he asked, with a laugh.

"I did. There are often talent scouts at such competitions and one of my associates forwarded it to me. It was a pleasant surprise to recognise you among the singers. You managed to stand out in that group of yours, even without a clearly defined solo performance."

"Thank you."

"Other than your last performance, you seem to have a preference for your upper singing register. Why?"

"It's easier for me," he admitted, wondering if it would come across as him being lazy. "But I have worked more on my lower range recently."

"Care to illustrate?"

And so he did, this time, after brief consideration, singing "Being Alive".

The end of his performance this time was met by actual applause from her, something that caused Kurt to wonder idly if this was truly reality. Was this interview actually going well?

"Why didn't you apply to NYADA on your own?" she inquired. "You clearly have some knowledge and interest in musicals."

"I didn't think it was possible now. I decided to focus on my other strengths once I graduated."

"Why isn't it possible?"

"My arm."

"Broken bones heal."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh at that. He recalled a reporter who had covered both Sectionals and Regionals and had asked after the fact what he was doing to keep that arm of his broken for so long. The man's face when he had explained the truth had been quite amusing.

"My arm was paralysed in the attack I mentioned," he explained, "and I'm not guaranteed to ever regain a full range of motion. I can't exactly be a Broadway performer with a renegade arm, now can I?"

"Renegade?"

His lip twitching a bit, Kurt reached up to the clip around his neck and released the sling. He endured the few seconds it took the woman to look at his arm which immediately decided to celebrate its freedom with a few extra spasms before restraining it again.

"I...see..."

And it was now that she was going to thank him for his time and politely rebuff him, he thought, bracing himself for it.

"You do know that there is a growing movement to incorporate differently abled persons into theatre now? Or is it that your passions have changed that much?"

"There is?"

"There is," she confirmed. "The world is starting to celebrate diversity and the Theatre must follow the trend if it wishes to remain relevant in the long run. Does knowing this affect your stance?"

"I- I love performing," he said carefully, "my boyfriend took me to see Wicked in December and I fell in love with Broadway all over again. I did want to be an actor, badly. But, ever since this, I started to search out and focus on my other interests. Fashion and journalism are two of them. I always had a thought that maybe I could at least be a costume designer for a production, since acting seemed out. But even that is a bit farfetched."

"Would you still study it if you could?"

"I did consider taking up a few of the theory courses in college if it was feasible," he said honestly.

"And NYADA doesn't fit into that plan? We do offer primarily reading degrees alongside performance based ones. We also have partner programmes with other New York based colleges. I'm certain we have a few students who are doing journalism courses with the aim of becoming critics. It is an option if you're absolutely certain that acting and singing is not where you want to be."

Kurt stared at her, confused by the level of detail she was giving, and by what she was saying. He had not even known about all of that. But then again, he and Rachel really hadn't looked at the school past its musical performance department back in the day. "I didn't know all of that."

"Would you have applied had you known that?"

"I might have," he stated honestly.

"Then, it's probably a good thing that someone else did that for you," she told him with a small smile.

A minute part of Kurt could not help but agree with her on that sentiment.


	27. Acceptance Letters

Dalton didn't have homerooms like most public schools did. On Mondays and Wednesdays there was a general assembly in the hall. The principal would lead the Monday one while the deans took turns doing it on a Wednesday. After that students reported to their classroom where the roll was taken by their class master or mistress before studies began. On Tuesdays and Thursdays assemblies occurred within the classroom for thirty minutes, while on Fridays, it lasted for one hour and the time was spent with whatever club the student belonged to.

Usually Kurt, Jeff and Trent walked to class together after they met up in the morning. But Jeff had had a meeting with his psychologist that day as a follow-up to the decreasing of his medication dosage, and Trent had gone off to the library to print an essay before his first class. And so, Kurt, not particularly feeling to remain out on the grounds by himself until the bell rang, decided upon just going to class early.

"Good morning," he called out as he entered the room. There were only eight people there so far, and surprisingly, they were all grouped together around Rick and James' assigned seats. "What's wrong?" he asked when he saw that they weren't pouring over a comic or the like.

"Hey Kurt," Matthew, Kurt's Physics partner greeted, as he walked over. "We're kind of doing group therapy."

"Without the expert?" he said, and despite the morose mood, all of them chuckled at that. Matthew scooted around, making room so that he could sit on the table with him. "What's going on?" he asked again.

"We opened our acceptance letters yesterday," Rick answered softly.

"Oh." It was that time Kurt supposed, when dreams were made or broken. "Bad news?" he asked delicately.

"In a way," Rick answered, while James simply huffed out, "It doesn't have to be."

"Well I don't like what you want to do," Rick snapped, and Kurt's eyes widened. In the time he had come to know the pair, he had never seen them in anything remotely resembling an argument.

"Remember how they applied to the same schools?" Matthew told him as the pair continued to snipe at each other.

"Yeah. Don't tell me..."

"Harvard and Yale took Rick and not James."

Kurt winced at that; those had been their top two choices if he had recalled correctly. "They're going to have to split up," he said sadly. He felt it for them. The pair, much like a lot of Dalton's students, had known each other since kindergarten. They had been the best of friends throughout, virtually inseparable, and that was the chief reason they had applied to the same schools to ensure that that would not be broken.

"Not if Rick has his way," Matthew corrected. "They both got into Brown, and Rick's decided that he'll enrol in there too and that they can both try for Yale or Harvard for Law and Med later on."

"And James doesn't want that."

"Exactly. Hence this," he said, waving to where the two were now just staring at each other, emotions rife on their face.

"Unfortunately they're not the only ones with issues," Jessie, a tall lanky blonde said from Matthew's side. "Justin got into Princeton, but his sister's decided to accept a place in Dartmouth. My girlfriend decided that she is going to defer a year to 'discover herself' and somehow I think that journey of discovery isn't going to include me for much longer."

"Does anyone have any good news?" Kurt couldn't help but ask.

"I got into Guelph," Matthew offered, "so I'm Canada bound come the summer."

"Great," he said softly.

"And you?" Rick asked, looking at him. "NYU started sending out offers didn't they?"

"Have they?" Kurt replied. "Finn and I decided to let our parents just collect all the letters for us. When all have gotten in, we'll open them."

"Aren't you anxious?"

"Very," Kurt admitted, "but I rather not play the wait and hope game, especially if rejection letters apply first."

"That might have been the better way," James noted, and Kurt resisted the urge to go over and hug him. He didn't know what he would do in their situation. He could only hope that it worked out for the best. As horrible as it sounded, he was pretty happy that Jeff was definitely heading to New York as well and that Blaine was already out there. The thought of having to spend four years away from either of them just didn't sit too well with him.

"Should I pour you each a drink first?" Carole said, only half joking as she took in her sons' pensive expressions.

It was D day. The final letter - Finn's - had arrived the day before, and now it was the moment of reckoning. Beside her, Burt sat silently, twin oversized bags on his lap. He and Carole had just stuffed them all into there for ease, Kurt supposed, and probably also to mask the difference between letters and packages. But then again, Kurt thought, reminding him of what Blaine had told him, not all schools sent out acceptance packages alongside the letter until they had indication that you were firmly considering accepting the offer. Kurt found himself only mildly reassured by that fact.

"Let's not encourage the boys in drinking Carole," Burt told her good-naturedly. "They'll probably be doing a good deal of that come September."

"Underage drinking is illegal," Kurt couldn't help but point out.

"That never stopped college kids," Burt retorted.

"Can I take that to mean that we got into somewhere?" Finn said with such cheerfulness that Kurt couldn't help but snort out a laugh. That was indeed one way of looking at it.

Burt didn't answer that, and instead offered the bags to them. "Here you go boys," Burt stated, "good luck."

Both held the bags inn their respective laps, Finn giving his an experimental heft. "How are we doing this?" he asked. "Do you just want to make a pile of them and grab as we go along?"

"Yup," Kurt agreed.

"And we worked so hard to keep them separate," Carole lamented as they proceeded to do just that, upturning their bags onto the carpeted floor in front of them before scrambling them together. They could just give each other the good or bad news.

Looking at the pile Kurt saw that there were at least four packages in the mix. That was promising. He had applied to seven schools (eight if he counted NYADA) and Finn had applied to six. It wasn't possible that there was only one name on those packages, he rationalised. They were both definitely going to college…but where?

"Let's do this," Finn requested, and in tandem they both reached into the pile, each snagging a letter.

"Wait," Kurt said, "You applied to the University of Florida?!"

"Beaches and babes dude," Finn replied with a slightly lecherous grin. Kurt laughed as Carole tossed a pillow at her son's head, but he opened the letter anyway.

"Well, no B and B for you," he quipped, waving it.

"Damn."

"I am not at all disappointed by that," Carole pointed out, and Burt laughed as Finn fake pouted at her.

"Boston College is a no by the way," Finn said nonchalantly as he refocussed on Kurt, before setting the letter aside.

Kurt twitched his nose briefly before shrugging. "Eh that interviewer pretty much said that he didn't think I'd fit in too well there anyway, so that's not too surprising. Next two?"

"Okay."

They opened the envelopes, scanning quickly. "I got into Ohio State," Kurt said, without any real enthusiasm. More than half of Lima's students ended up there. It would be McKinley, College Edition, something he did not want in the least.

"Me too," Finn responded, and Kurt could tell that he too wasn't too excited about it. "I've got a scholarship for Football as well. We're going somewhere at least."

"Yeah," Kurt answered but he barely resisted the urge to ball and toss the letter like he had done with Finn's Florida one. Putting it into his unofficial 'yes' pile, he truly hoped that it would not be the only one he received.

Without a word, he reached for a next letter, a heavy set one with a rather fancy crest on it. He stared at the name in disbelief for a moment before looking up at Finn who seemed just as interested in it as he was. "You didn't tell me you applied to Berkeley," he said, surprised.

"It was Ms. P's idea," he responded, and Kurt was a bit shocked to realise that nervousness was creeping into Finn's tone, alongside an edge of hope. He stared at him for a long considering moment, trying to figure out where this school fit into Finn's plans – plans he had thought he had known all about. He extended his hand, offering him the letter. "Maybe you should open it?" As Finn took it for him, Kurt noted that the envelope weighed a bit more than the rejection one from Florida.

As much as he wanted to stare, Kurt felt as if this was an intensely private moment for his brother, and so, he reached down, blindly grabbing a letter. Bringing it up, Kurt's heart rate accelerated as he saw Columbia's crest on it. Columbia – his alternative choice to NYU. He nipped his lip as his eyes drifted down to the packages still before him wondering if one of them was for NYU. What if this was a rejection letter? What if NYU hadn't taken him in as well? After all, his safety school had already rejected him. What if he was stuck here in shitty Ohio State for the next four years? Briefly he considered passing the letter up to Carole or his dad, but no, he told himself. This was his fate in the balance now. He should read it. Swallowing back his nervousness, he tore the edge off the envelope with his teeth, before shaking the letter out onto his lap. His fingers trembled slightly as he opened it, and in his periphery he saw Carole and Burt shifting closer to each other.

Taking a steadying breath he read the opening line. " _Dear Mr. Hummel, it is our pleasure to offer you…_ " Kurt dropped it, a choked off gleeful noise passing his lips as relief flooded through him. He had gotten into Columbia. He was truly New York bound no matter what now! He looked up to where Finn was still staring at his own letter, disbelief on his face.

"Finn?" he asked, tempering his own joy. He hadn't even known that Finn had applied to the school, but looking at him now, Kurt could see that it was a place truly important to him. He didn't know why, but suddenly, with all his heart, he wanted the best for him.

The quarterback looked up at him, and Kurt's breath hitched as he saw tears in his eyes. "I-I got in."

Carole clapped in joy for him and Burt reached down to thump his shoulder. Kurt closed the space between them and hugged him tightly, so happy for him. Berkeley was a great school with a pretty high rejection rate. For Finn to have accomplished that… He was so proud of him. "That's great Finn," he said pulling back.

"And you?" Finn said, passing a hand over his face. "Which one is that?"

"Columbia. I got in," Kurt responded, and he laughed as it was now Finn hugging him while Carole cheered again, Burt grinning proudly beside him.

"I know you boys had it in you," Burt told them. "We're heading out to dinner tonight. My boys are college bound!"

"I have so many phone calls to make," Carole gushed. "But later. You still have a few to open boys."

"You're right," Finn agreed, before passing the letter to his mother for safe keeping while Kurt happily flicked the Ohio State letter away before dropping the Columbia one where it had been. Everything was going according to plan now, and even if NYU hadn't taken him, he would have people in Columbia. Everything was going to be okay. "Only packages now," Finn noted as he started removing them from their brown packaging. "These two are from Ohio Community College," he read, crinkling his nose. "Bleh, mom, you can open that if you want," he said dismissively, and Kurt laughed as Carole rolled her eyes but took it anyway. "This one's from Berkeley," he continued, with more excitement. "Burt, hold that."

"Yes sir," Burt joked, while Carole instantly discarded the Community College packages to read it with him.

"We've got the Louisville ones here. Wanna go for those?"

"Sure," Kurt agreed, taking one onto his lap and ripping into it. Unsurprisingly, it was an acceptance package.

"I have a partial scholarship for football."

"That's great," Kurt praised.

Vaguely, as Finn set them aside, Kurt heard Carole gasp but he didn't pay too much mind to it. The two packages Finn was now unwrapping were from NYU, and suddenly he was nervous all over again. Packages didn't always mean acceptance right? It could be full of booklets giving him information about reapplying.

"Relax lil dude," Finn said softly, and it was only then that Kurt realised that his breathing had sped up a bit.

Finn's eyes were soft as they met. "You're in New York either way," Finn reminded him, "no matter what is in here."

Kurt forcibly took a deep breath before nodding. "I'm good," he responded softly. "But…open mines?"

"Okay," Finn agreed, and immediately set aside his own in favour of Kurt's.

Kurt's legs twitched as he watched Finn empty it out. A few booklets fell out alongside fliers and then a letter dropped out. Kurt could only watch as Finn opened it, his eyes riveted on what he was seeing.

"Well?" Kurt asked impatiently.

Finn made a show of folding back the letter, delaying long enough that Kurt barely resisted the urge to grab it from him. "You got in," Finn told him, pride in his eyes. Relieved laughter bubbled up from within Kurt as he took the letter from him. He had done it! All that studying and hard work had paid off. He had gotten into Blaine's college. They would be together again. He jumped up and dove at Burt who held him tightly, while Carole ruffled his hair affectionately.

"I got in too," Finn said, and Carole moved down to the floor to hug and congratulate her son.

"I did it dad," Kurt whispered, his voice laden with emotions as he pulled back from the embrace.

"I knew you could do it bud," Burt returned with equal fervour. "I am so proud of you, and I know that Elizabeth is so damn proud of you as well."

"I hope so." Kurt looked towards the mantle and made a thumbs up to his mom's smiling picture. He really did hope she was happy for him. He settled into Burt's side, watching as Carole explained a bit more of what Finn's Berkeley letter had said. He apparently hadn't bothered to read far enough down to see that they were offering him a scholarship and, from the way Carole was speaking, it was a pretty hefty one. Burt drew him into a conversation, but they were distracted when Carole spoke up, her voice a bit wooden.

"There's a package left," she told them, and Kurt's brows furrowed at her tone. What was wrong?

He turned to look at Finn who already had it opened, with an unfolded letter in his hand. It was only then that Kurt remembered NYADA. In the excitement about being with Blaine, he had forgotten all about it.

"Did I…?" he inquired even as he felt his father stiffen beside him.

"You got in," Finn said. "NYADA…Kurt, they took you in."

I'm a bit curious about which school you think Kurt should ultimately go to...Columbia, NYADA or NYU. I have the remaining three chapters drafted, but I haven't firmly decided on which one as of yet. Your thoughts would be deeply appreciated ^_^.


	28. Contemplations

"Oh no," Kurt demanded, pointing at the notepad in his therapist's hand, "put that away. This isn't going to be one of those sessions. There will be no psycho-analysis of Kurt today."

"Then what sort of session is this going to be, Kurt?" Jessica Thompson responded with ease, even as she set her writing apparatus aside. "You know this means I'm going to be recording this right?" she pointed out, picking up and waving her voice recorder in his direction.

Kurt frowned at the inconspicuous black device before shrugging. "As long as I have all your attention on me and not on my so called issues," he stated, before rummaging through his messenger bag while she did her introductory remarks for the session, identifying the date, his name and all those other miscellaneous things Kurt always found irrelevant.

"So it seems to me," she began, when Kurt finally settled down with a binder in his lap, "you have a plan for this session."

"Didn't I say that?" Kurt asked, before knocking the binder with his knuckles. "As much as I despise this place, and mildly less you, I need your help."

The woman showed no outward reaction to the subtle insult Kurt threw her way. She had gotten used to it after all this time together, and frankly, she knew that there was little truth behind the barbs anymore. It was more habit than anything for the young man, a method for him to ensure that he retained some semblance of control during their interactions.

"What shall we focus on?"

"My future."

"That is a broad topic," she acknowledged. "Let's narrow it down. Are we looking at your short term or long term goals?"

Kurt huffed, shooting her a mildly irritated look. "Must you always get so technical? I mean college okay? I want to talk about college and my options."

"You've decided against deferring then."

Kurt openly glared at her this time. "That whole stay in this stink-hole town for a year was you and Anthony's idea," he told her firmly, referring to his physical therapist.

"One that you had been seriously considering," she returned.

He was silent for a moment, thinking, she knew. He never did like when she placed responsibility solely on him. He preferred to put agency for difficult or uncomfortable positions onto others, so that he could insist that he was not solely responsible for any consequences, good or bad.

"You had acknowledged the benefits of remaining," she continued.

"I want to be with Blaine," he snapped, "that's most important."

"Have you mentioned it to him? Did he disapprove of you remaining here?"

"Oh no," he said defensively, "we are not going to go down that "Kurt you're too dependent on Blaine" road right now."

"I wasn't," she told him, raising a placating hand. "Indeed, I don't believe we've spoken about that for a good few months now."

It had been an issue for him at one point, a deeply profound one. Kurt had latched onto Blaine Anderson as a life-line, using his classmate turned boyfriend as a buffer against the world. At first it had been a healthy dependency. Mr. Anderson often played a part in any significant milestones Kurt achieved, including lessening the severity of his disdain for his body, boosting his confidence, and even, to a certain degree, motivating him to return to his musical roots. But, that dependency had quickly, in her opinion, descended into the realms of near obsession, most evident when Mr. Anderson moved to New York.

She did not need to re-read her notes on the subject in front of her to recall the way he had all but fallen apart in the aftermath of that. He had questioned everything, his abilities, his reason for trying... The list was quite extensive. She recalled sessions when Kurt would sit on that same couch and sob, questioning his value and wondering how long it would take his boyfriend to realise there were 'better' persons out there for him, and that he need not waste his time on invalids. There were days when he walked the room, micro-picking every action his boyfriend did, from him not calling at a promised time, to him needed to end a Skype session early as possible signs of an end to their relationship.

And that time when Mr. Anderson had confessed to perceived infidelity...now that had been a rather emotional session that surprisingly had led to a breakthrough with her client. Kurt had channelled his hurt and confusion into his hobbies, and his success in that, coupled with his resolution of the issue with his boyfriend, had changed his self-opinion, showing him that he had value in his own right. The shattered image of his 'perfect' boyfriend showed him that Blaine indeed, was not some perfect concept, but was simply a regular teenager like him who had his own insecurities and issues. That realisation seemed to have imbued the young adult in front of her with confidence and strength, and it had continued building since then.

"Did he disapprove?" she repeated, when Kurt remained silent.

"He...he hasn't said much on the matter," Kurt admitted. "I did kind of just hurl it at him, but outside of him telling me it was my choice, he hasn't brought it up."

"But you know what he prefers?"

Kurt shrugged. "Blaine wants me in New York with him, but he would support me if I wanted to stay. Not that I want to," he added, "but he would accept it. But that's really a non-issue because I don't want to stay here."

"Why?" she inquired, keeping her tone neutral.

"I've lost so much already here," he said, setting aside his binder and rising. She didn't question as he walked to the window and parted the blinds to look out. "You would think that I would love this state, my town. It's where I was born after all, but I've suffered so much here. My family is the only good thing Lima has ever given me, but it's heaped me with so much hurt, so much pain. I lost my mom here, I lost friends here. I've been bullied so much. I've both found and lost my passions and dreams here. I'm standing in a shrink's office talking to you because of people in this damn town. If I hadn't been spending most of my time in Westerville these past three years, I think I would have gone crazy long ago.

"Dalton's showed me how horrible Lima has been to me and how judgemental the people are. I've experienced a world of unequivocal love and acceptance. Tolerance and care. I've found a place where I am not judged simply for being me, and out there I can find such a place again. If I stay here for a year doing nothing, the only kind faces I'm going to have are my parents and I don't want that. I refuse to have that.

"So I'm going. Even if I had only been accepted into the local colleges I would have left. I can find new therapists in New York. I can start over there...or rather, continue there. To stay in Ohio would be me stepping back into the past and I just can't do that anymore. So no, I'm leaving. Not just because I want to be with Blaine I guess. Not just because he wants me to be with him. I'm leaving because it's the best move I can make for me."

Jessica nodded, even though he could not see her gesture, and personally, she felt a bit of pride for the young adult still perusing the outside world. That eloquent speech of his spoke wonders of the growth he had experienced in the time she had come to know him.

"I have no choice but to accept that decision then," she told him instead. "I will have my secretary search for suitable New York based offices for you."

He turned, arching a brow at her. "Just like that? No protests?"

"You seem firm in this decision," she said. "My role is not to guide your actions Kurt, but to ensure that you control your life in the safest manner for you."

"Oh," he retorted. "Good, I mean. Cuz I wasn't going to listen to you anyway."

Wisely, she kept her amusement at his words hidden away. Kurt looked outside again for a minute or so, and she allowed him the time, using it to sip at her glass of water. He was organising his thoughts. She would grant him the leeway to do so.

"Do you have to sit over there?" he inquired, turning her way.

"Where do you want me?"

"Join me on the couch?" he requested, moving back to it. "It'll be easier to go through this with you."

She nodded in acceptance, and, collecting the recorder, shortly sat on the leather couch beside him.

"I got into six of the seven schools I applied for," he told her, opening the binder.

The first page consisted of a two column table, schools in one column and Xs or ticks in the second.

"What does this column mean?" she asked, lightly fingering the second one.

He huffed lightly, and she took it as him being irritated by the rather pointless question. Even without it being titled, she could fairly easily deduce the contents.

"The ticks are for the schools I'm considering attending."

"New York University, Columbia University and...NYADA," she noted, unable to keep her surprise entirely out of her voice.

"I know right," he said with a snort. "I can't believe I got in."

"I'm a bit surprised you are considering it," she admitted, briefly meeting his gaze.

He shrugged and then sighed. "I thought it was clear cut, you know? I just wanted to get into a New York school so I could be with Blaine. And now I've gotten into three of them, NYU including, so you'd think this would be easy huh? NYU has Blaine. What more do I want?"

He turned the page then, showing a more chaotic table. It was a pros and cons list, she noted, one for each school. Indeed, at the top of the column for NYU was indeed the name Blaine, written in bold colours with a heart drawn beside it.

"Then why isn't it easy?" she inquired.

"Because isn't it kind of stupid to answer the "Why did you choose NYU?" question with "Because my boyfriend is there"?"

"Is that the sole reason?" she asked, not responding to his question.

Kurt groaned, tossing his head back against the couch. "This is why I'm here Jessica," he told her. "It was the motivator, and hell, if I'd only gotten into there I wouldn't have this issue. But now...now I actually have to think."

"Let's look at what you have listed for each," she offered. "Maybe if we go through it together, you may have a bit more clarity."

"Which is why I'm here," he quipped. "You're the only one who has absolutely no agenda in this."

"Oh?"

"Blaine's preference would be NYU, obviously. Finn wants that as well because Blaine would have more access to me. I don't think my parents are all too keen that NYADA accepted me, and I...I don't really know what I anymore. Besides...the offers for each are actually kind of...compelling."

"I'm glad you're looking at your choices from a more holistic approach."

"Yeah, you're just glad I'm not going to take my co-dependency to the next level," he griped.

Jessica wisely remained silent. She knew that Kurt believed that she judged his relationship negatively, and that she would have preferred if he was not so entangled with Blaine. It wasn't entirely the case, but Kurt had never changed his viewpoint on her stance, and often turned defensive whenever his name came up in discussions.

Which one do you want to start with?" she inquired instead, diverting his attention.

"Columbia."

"Okay."

"It's higher ranked than NYU," he informed her, not even looking at the binder closely anymore. It was obvious that he really had been wrangling with this for at least a few days now. "A lot of people end up enrolled in NYU after being rejected from there. NYU's a top notch school though."

"It is," she agreed. "They're both fine institutions."

"I don't really need to worry about financing," Kurt told her honestly, "given the compensation we got after the lawsuit against the school district. But for what it counts, I've gotten partial scholarships from both schools. NYU's a better offer, but like I said, I don't have to put too much weight onto that."

"Okay," she said simply, not wanting to colour his thoughts with her words just yet.

"Finn also got into NYU," he continued, "and a few of my classmates are considering taking spots there as well, so I won't be alone. But then again, I'd have people in Columbia as well, and I will be living with Blaine regardless so it's not like I should be placing too much weight on that...but...it'd be nice not to be alone."

"Shall we consider the programmes then?" she asked, not pointing out to him that he was basically going back and forth between Columbia and NYU. Was that the contention for him, she wondered.

"Columbia took me in for Journalism and Fashion," he explained. "NYU accepted me into the English department but I can specialise in Writing for Journalistic Purposes after my second year. I can also take enough electives in Fashion for it to count as a minor.

"Columbia has a lot more internship opportunities though from the second year onwards. They've even got connections for . In the third year the top percentile students of the programme are automatically assigned to the school's newspaper, so that by the time you graduate you have enough working experience to get into the field almost immediately."

"That is a great plus."

"It would be."

She glanced at his face when he did not speak further, and saw that his gaze was now on the NYADA column.

"Do you want to talk about it now?" she inquired.

"I didn't even apply," he said, in a soft, slightly distracted voice. His finger brushed down the column and he tapped his fingers over the deeply underlined sentence "Rachel did this."

"Rachel Berry?" she deduced. It was a name that had cropped up several times in the run-up to his Regional performance. At one point they had been 'frenemies' – Kurt's term. They had a seemingly love/hate relationship. She was the reason he had settled upon joining a glee club initially, but, shortly after that, animosity became the order of the day. Things had resettled between them after she became his brother's girlfriend, but an altercation had ended that.

"Does the fact that she applied on your behalf play a role in you not wanting to accept the offer."

"I should have refused the audition for that alone," Kurt retorted with a snort. "Who the hell does she feel she is? She just can't going around meddling in people's lives like this. I told her I didn't want to apply...that I had a new passion, and she couldn't respect that fact. If I do this, she'll be telling me "I told you so" for the rest of my life."

"So why did you audition?"

Kurt's glare this time around was even more severe, but she just shot him an expectant look. As expected, he released his annoyance within seconds, settling on a disgruntled look before he turned away, pointedly shifting further away from her. "It was an irrational decision," he stated, "and it's not like I expected to get in. I didn't even prepare for it properly. I told you that."

"But you performed excellently regardless. And you did not have to prepare much I would assume. The amount of work you've put in with your club means that you would have had songs at your disposal."

"Stop being logical," he snapped. "I auditioned because I was curious."

"About?"

"Why I had made it so far," he stated, a bit softer now. "I wanted to know what Rachel had done to make it stand out from the rest."

"And what made it?"

Kurt did not answer immediately, instead twisting his features and biting on his lips. "She filled out the application form and submitted it together with a performance I did. The performance is what got the attention. That meant that they weren't curious because of the circumstances of my application. They were curious about me."

"And that made it acceptable for you to move forward with the interview process?"

"Yes. It wasn't simply because of Rachel anymore. She started the process, but I completed it, you know?"

"Understandable."

"They accepted me as a general student," Kurt explained, "so I wouldn't have to fall into a specialised area until my sophomore year."

"General students tend to have a lot of freedom with their course choices," she informed him, "you would not have any restrictions, discipline wise."

"Exactly," he agreed. "It's a good offer."

Jessica looked back to the binder, frowning slightly when she took in a last pro scribbled in near the bottom of the place. "Dual?" she said, inquiringly.

"Back when I auditioned, Madame Tibedeaux told me that NYADA has partner programmes with other universities. Columbia is one of those schools."

"What does that mean for you?"

Kurt set aside the binder and stood, walking to where she kept refreshments. She watched patiently as he deliberately poured himself a glass and drained it.

"I'm really good at English," he said, disregarding her question, "and I enjoyed my classes with Mr. Kentwood the most, and not only because Blaine was in it," he added, turning to give her a brief, though slightly troubled smile. "When Blaine was worrying over his applications, I found myself thinking about it too, about what I would be applying to when my turn came. Blaine wasn't too sure what he wanted. He loves music and performing, but he wasn't sure he could see himself pursuing that as a career. He decided to study business, although now I think he's planning on seeing if he can throw in a couple of music courses into the mix.

"Watching Blaine, I realised that I had no idea what I wanted to do...well besides follow him to New York. He didn't even need to ask me to consider it; I would have anyway. And so I had a plan. I would study in New York, but I had no idea what. Becoming an actor was out...that's what I told myself then, so what was left for me to do? Fashion? I loved fashion as much as I did music, but, once again I wasn't sure I could do it. I had wanted to be a fashion designer after all, but I just don't have the talent for drawing with this hand. A minor issue I know, there's graphic designing, but I latched onto that as a reason for why I couldn't do that. I never did come to a decision until it was my time to start applying and I started searching, actually searching and I realised that there was both the theoretical and practical side to Fashion degrees and it could be paired in a way that I could actual become a part of it. That's when I settled upon journalism. If I couldn't be a designer, I could aim to become a fashion journalist. I'm good at English, I told myself, and Fashion was always my second love. I had my answer. I'd study in New York and then I'd take the fashion world by storm.

"And then I had that talk with Madame Tibedeaux, and though I put it out of my mind, it's all coming back to me now. There's room for the differently abled in the performance world now. I can perform. I've proven that countless times over the past few months, and what's more is that I love performing. I always had. I was afraid of it, but I love it again. The sight of the crowd doesn't petrify me, it emboldens me. I relished in the effect I had on people during the Acapella finals; I loved knowing that my voice could move them to tears. I realise now that I still love the stage...I never lost that love for it. It was just hidden away amidst all my fears."

"So you want to go to NYADA?"

"Do I dare?" he asked her with a bitter laugh. "Should I go with what I've always loved, or should I settle on the new dream I've made for myself. With journalism I'm guaranteed future success as long as I am willing to put in the time and effort. And I am. But if I choose NYADA, despite what she said, I know it'll be an uphill battle. I'm not delusional. I know that my arm will put me at a disadvantage; that even if I go through with NYADA's schooling, actually finding roles that could be adapted to me, or finding people willing to cast me in spite of this arm will be difficult. It'd be such a great leap of faith that I'm not sure I should bother taking it. Should I dare to dream or just choose to live within my means?"

"Which brought you here today," she deduced.

"Exactly," Kurt told her, and walking back over, he took up the binder before sitting. "Is it wrong of me to be scared to take a risk?"

"Do you think it is wrong?"

"I'm not sure. There's nothing wrong with being logical in my choice. My dad told me to try to imagine myself ten years into the future as a performer or as a journalist, and to decide which one made me feel happier or more fulfilled."

"And what was the result of it?"

Kurt laughed. "I couldn't decide," he admitted. "If I were a journalist for a big magazine like Vogue, trust me I would be ecstatic. And if I were a Broadway actor? That would be amazing. I know I can be happy with any decision I make...that's why I have "dual" written there."

"Oh?"

He ran his finger over the word. "Can you ever see yourself making a choice that's bound to bring you hardship? That's going to tax you and test all your limits?"

"I think we all have such a choice to make eventually," she offered.

"Yeah, but if there is an easier way, would you take it or decide to gamble it all for a bigger reward?"

"Sometimes you have to put everything on the line. All or nothing."

"I like that," he told her. "And that's where this comes in. I love fashion. I love performing. I can't be a designer, and I'm not guaranteed success as an actor. But I can be a writer, and writers write about everything. So if I am not guaranteed success as a performer or a designer, there's one thing I can do."

"Write about it," she deduced.

"Exactly," he said, "I can be a journalist, a critic. For fashion or Broadway."

"So you're going to go the Journalism route? And you'll combine it with what you love."

Kurt nodded. "If I can find a way."

"And the school you'll matriculate into?"

"Is still the question up in the air."


	29. Decisions Made

Kurt wasn't sure how much time had elapsed between the end of his phone call, which cemented a decision in his mind, and his booting up his laptop to speak with Blaine. He had to tell him, Blaine deserved to know before anyone else as it would ultimately have the greatest impact on them. Kurt found himself fighting to keep his breathing steady just at the thought of it. He wasn't in the greatest state right now, and he knew that Blaine would detect it as soon as he saw him. Maybe he shouldn't do a video call? But then again, that would worry Blaine more than seeing his face. He would realise instantly that there was a reason Kurt was hiding from him.

He opened the program, frankly relieved when he saw Blaine's icon set to away. He couldn't do it, not yet. He stood up, aware of the tension in his frame as he went into his bathroom to scrub at his face. It reddened his skin slightly, giving his a bit more colour in his face, but nothing he could do would change the puffy state of his eyes and the wateriness of his voice when he spoke. He could just save the conversation for a later date, but that would be too great a burden to bear. He had to know that Blaine would not resent him. And so, he returned, and with the bit of courage that he mustered after he saw the change in Blaine's status, he pressed call, regretting it almost immediately. Was he really prepared for what he had to say?

"You're early poppet," Blaine's warm voice said by way of greeting.

"Hey," Kurt returned, and immediately saw the way Blaine straightened. "He was concerned."

"What's wrong?" he asked concern in his tone. "Did something happen today? You've been crying. How can I help?"

Kurt's lower lip wobbled at the question. This was his Blaine, always willing to help fix whatever was wrong in his life. Was he so selfish that he couldn't just do the one thing that he knew Blaine wanted of him? He sniffed, and passed his hand under his eyes to prevent anything from escaping. He couldn't lose control again, or he would never get through this.

"I made up my mind about what I want to do," he said finally, meeting Blaine's gaze. "And I don't want you to hate me because of it."

A myriad of emotions flashed across Blaine's face, something that tore into Kurt's heart and drew a next, louder sniffle from him. The sound seemed to jar Blaine, for immediately he schooled his face into one of offering comfort, trying to hide his true feelings.

"It's okay Kurt," he told him. "I understand. Time spent focussing on your arm is for the best. We made it through this year. We can do it again."

Despite the situation, startled laughter burst from Kurt's lips, a tear slipping loose that he distractedly flipped away. "Oh no honey," he replied as he took in Blaine's confused expression. "I'm not staying in Ohio. Gods no. I'm not staying here a minute more than I have to."

The relief on Blaine's face was tangible. "Good," he said, voice considerably lighter, "you staying would have been stupid anyway. I'm pretty sure you can find a better physical therapist in New York."

Kurt snorted, but he didn't comment on his boyfriend's changed words. He had known that Blaine had mostly given his first response to not pile guilt upon him.

"So what's this about then?" Blaine inquired, his voice more relaxed. "Do you want to move into NYU's dorms instead of living with me?"

And there it was, Kurt thought bleakly, the assumption that showed just how much Blaine would end up hating him by the end of their conversation. "Blaine?"

"Yes Kurt?" he responded.

"Is it okay if I don't choose NYU?" he asked, lowering his gaze.

Silence.

Pure silence.

His boyfriend didn't even know what to say. Kurt forced his eyes back up, a strangled sound escaping his throat as he took in Blaine's expression, one of pure shock. "I'm sorry!" he rasped out, his voice wavering more than ever. "Don't hate me." Blaine still didn't answer and he didn't have to. Kurt knew what he was thinking. He had let him down, broken all of the promises that he had made. Blaine would resent him now.

Kurt pushed the laptop of him and pulled his legs up so that he could bury his head against them, distressed sounds passing his lips. Why had he been so foolish, so stupid and so selfish? He was being greedy. He was already going to be in New York, why couldn't he have just been satisfied with that? Distantly he could hear Blaine's voice, but the ferocity of his thoughts made it impossible for him to comprehend what he was saying; he wasn't sure he wanted to hear what he was saying. He wanted to break it off, their arrangements. They had never spoken about NYU in terms of if but rather of when. It was a foregone conclusion that Kurt would attend the same school as him. They had spoken about it, about Blaine showing him around the campus so that Kurt would not get hopelessly lost like he had in his first days. They would sneak into each other's lectures when possible and meet up for lunch whenever they could and walk each other to classes. Blaine had already reassured him that there was pair seating available in the libraries so that they could be together while they worked. And now, in one question, one moment of greed, he had ruined it.

He flinched when, in the middle of his misery, a hand landed against his back, rubbing firmly. He knew that hand…Finn's. He eased himself out of his position enough to look up to find Finn looking down at him with concerned eyes.

"Let's get you calmed down okay?" he said easily, before sitting down beside him, pulling Kurt into his side and letting him bury his head against him. Sounds still escaped his mouth, and his thoughts still threatened to overwhelm him, but held securely like this anchored him, relaxed him enough so that he could hear the words that Finn was saying to him.

"That's right kiddo, just breathe for me. You're okay. Everything will be okay. You've got Blaine worried little dude. So breathe okay? That's right, just like that." He rocked him gently as he continued. "You're letting your thoughts get ahead of you again. No…don't panic…relax. That's right little dude. Everything is okay. Right Blaine?"

"Exactly," Blaine responded, and, opening his eyes, Kurt saw that Finn's phone was beside him on the bed, set on speaker. "I didn't mean to scare you Kurt," he heard. "Your question caught me off-guard, that's all."

"I'm sorry," Kurt choked out, and Finn rubbed his back a bit more firmly. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about Kurt," Blaine told him sincerely. "Finn, maybe he should take an anti-anxiety pill? He's taking long to calm down."

"I'll get him one," Finn agreed, although it took a bit longer for Kurt to relinquish his hold on him so he could do so.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, as his brother went to get him some water.

Blaine shushed him, and Kurt found himself trying to decide if he should be focussing on the phone he now held, or the discarded laptop tossed to the side of him. "We'll talk in a bit sweetheart. Just work on your breathing and to calm down for me, okay? Nothing is wrong. So please, just relax."

Kurt nodded, and focussed on his breathing.

"Here you go," Finn said upon his return, holding out the pill.

"You can't just keep drugging me everything I get upset," Kurt groused, and he heard twin laughter in response. He knew what they were thinking; if he was complaining about his medication, then he truly was getting back into a stable state.

"You got upset because Blaine took too long to answer a question," Finn pointed out, as he downed the water.

"I got overwhelmed."

"Which is exactly what that is for," Finn stated, taking back the glass. "It helps keep you from turning mole hills into Mt. Everest."

"This is Mt. Everest," Kurt retorted, and a bit of misery returned to his voice. "I'm sorry."

He heard Blaine sigh. "I'm tempted to ask Finn to bop you one for me, poppet," he said dryly. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Whatever you guys are talking about can't be that bad," Finn added, running his fingers through Kurt's hair in a manner he knew he liked.

"It's the end of the world."

"Oh boy. Blaine, give him a few minutes for the tablet to take effect okay?"

"I will," Blaine confirmed, "thanks for coming."

"It's no problem," he returned. "You're going to be okay now, Kurt?" he asked, tugging lightly on a few strands so that Kurt would look up at him.

"Eventually."

Finn shook his head in fond exasperation and bent, kissing his forehead. "Whatever is going on here," he whispered, "is not that bad okay? Stop worrying so much."

Kurt nodded, and Finn offered him a soft smile before releasing him. "Someone call me whenever you two have sorted this out. I need to talk to the both of you."

"We will," Blaine promised, his voice a bit intrigued, while Kurt settled for nodding again. He could feel the artificial calm running through him now. His thoughts were still there, but the force they had on him was lessening.

"Later dudes," Finn said, and left.

"Sorry about that," Kurt told his boyfriend, as he pulled the laptop back onto his lap.

"Never apologise for that," Blaine replied. "It's still something you're working to control. I should be the one apologising for triggering it anyway."

"I-"

"Let me talk for a moment," Blaine requested. "Your question caught me off guard Kurt, but that doesn't mean that I'm angry at you. I was just surprised because I really hadn't considered that you would decide against coming to NYU. I thought that was what you wanted, but Kurt, it's fine if it's not. So talk to me. I'm listening. Tell me what it is you want."

"I want to be with you," Kurt answered.

"I know that."

"But…it can't be the only reason I attend a school."

Blaine nodded in acceptance of that. "I know you only applied because I'm here. You're coming to New York because of me. Did I pressure you into this somehow? Is that the issue? Do you want to go to Louisville?"

"I would have left Ohio regardless," he responded. "You didn't pressure me into doing that. Please don't think that. I think I would have ended up in New York anyway. You just gave me a concrete reason to do so."

"So you are coming to New York then?" Blaine asked.

"I am," Kurt confirmed, running his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I should have started out just saying that, shouldn't I?"

"Might have saved a bit of hassle," Blaine agreed, with a soft chuckle.

"Sorry."

"No apologies poppet," Blaine repeated. "I'll be honest and say that I'm a bit disappointed that you're not going to attend with me, but it is your life, your choice sweetheart. You have to do what is best for you, and I will stand by you no matter what you've decided to do."

"Even if we won't be together as much?"

Blaine offered him a rueful smile. "We'll still be coming home to each other at the end of each day, you know. Unless you really want to dorm?"

"Hell no Anderson. I'm moving in."

Blaine laughed at that, and Kurt could hear the underlying relief in his tone.

"I'm matriculating into Columbia," Kurt stated once his laughing eased away. He snorted when Blaine threw his hands in the air with mock-anguish and declared, "Damn it, why did I turn down a spot there?"

"Silly."

"Just showing you how much it's not going to matter," Blaine told him sincerely, "although Wes and David are never going to let me live this down."

Kurt smiled fondly at the thought. "I should explain what I'm going to do."

"Journalism and Fashion right?"

"Well, sort of," Kurt agreed, before wriggling back so that he was more comfortably seated against the headboard. Talking about it was a lot easier now that he had the reassurance that Blaine wasn't angry with him. But then again, he acknowledged, he had been over-thinking and over-analysing it.

"Sort of?"

"The partnership programme works both ways," he explained. "I spent a while talking to a representative before I called you."

Blaine looked at him curiously. "So you're going to do theatre as well?"

"I'm going to try to," Kurt confirmed, nipping his lip. "I'd end up graduating with a double minor in Fashion and Theatre Arts this way. The lady at Columbia said that usually their students have to audition to qualify for the NYADA courses, the same way that NYADA students have to take pre-requisites to qualify for a class. However, since NYADA accepted me as a student on my own merit, I'd automatically qualify.

"I don't like how this entire NYADA thing came about Blaine, and I think you know that, but now that I have the opportunity, I think it'd be a waste for me to not at least try. This way I won't have to choose just yet. It won't be easy, I know that, and she already warned me that I'd have to take classes year round to make this work. But for now I want to try to do all three. And, if it gets to be too much, or if I decide that there's something I don't like as much anymore, then I'll just drop that and focus on what's left."

Blaine nodded. "I know that this hasn't been easy for you, Kurt. Neither has it been fair. You haven't talked to me much about it, but I know you've always hated trying to find out what there was left for you to do. None of us know what the future holds Kurt. We still don't know how far your arm can recover. It mightn't even be an issue for you by the time you graduate from college. I think you're right in choosing this. You'll be studying what you love now, and that, and your arm, can help guide you later on. "

"I can be a triple threat."

"My triple threat," Blaine responded, in a way that left Kurt feeling warm and loved.

They spent the next hour or so just talking, sometimes about the future, other times about the present. Finally, Blaine recalled Finn's parting words to them. "Do you want to see what Finn wanted now?"

Kurt nodded, sitting up once again. Sometime in the middle of his conversation, for comfort, he had braced the laptop on a pillow and had rolled onto his stomach. He stressed, humming as his bones popped. "I'm just glad these pills don't make me drowsy," he said.

"I don't know," Blaine replied playfully, "I sort of miss the stronger ones. They made for hilarious conversations."

"Quiet you," Kurt grumbled.

"I'm going to go get a drink while you call him, okay?" Blaine said putting aside the laptop.

"Who said I was walking?" he retorted, before hollering his brother's name. Finn called back that he was coming, and they both ignored Burt's subsequent shout from below about inside voices. His own response was defeating the point of his statement. Standing, Kurt moved the laptop to his desk, connecting it to the speakers for ease of conversation.

"You guys sorted your issues out?" Finn asked, as he entered the room.

"I'm going to Columbia," Kurt said by way of answer.

"And the sky didn't fall," he teased, chuckling when Kurt smacked his chest. "Congratulations little bro," he told him, a bit more seriously.

"Thanks."

"Back guys."

"Didn't we agree on no soda?" Kurt demanded, glaring at the glass in his hand.

Blaine gave him an innocent look. "Nick hid my SodaStream?"

"What were you using it on?"

"No comment."

"Blaine!"

"Should have made myself some popcorn," Finn said nonchalantly, snagging a seat on Kurt's desk chair. He waited patiently as the two sniped at each other for a bit more, more amused than anything else. Observing them gave him a few more seconds to plan out what it was that he wanted to say. "Are you two done now?" he asked when finally, silence descended.

"Yes. Blaine can rot his teeth away if that's what he wants."

"Dentures were invented for a reason," Blaine retorted, before pointedly taking a large sip. "So," he said, in far too cheerful a tone, "What are we talking about?"

"Yes, what?" Kurt seconded, "I'm honoured to finally be allowed into your little lady chats by the way."

"Yeah well, I want you to hear what I have to say," Finn told him, his face serious as he turned to Blaine. "Do you love my brother?"

"With all my heart," Blaine responded immediately. "You know this."

"Can you take care of him?" Finn continued on. "Can I trust you with him? It's going to be different you know. This isn't just going to be you two spending a few days together. You guys are going to live with each other, alone. You won't have anyone around to buffer if Kurt acts up."

"Hey!" Kurt protested. Finn's choice of words made him seem like a recalcitrant child.

"I'm prepared for all situations," Blaine confirmed, "as I am sure he's prepared to deal with me."

"Do you swear?" Finn pressed.

"I solemnly swear," Blaine confirmed.

"What's this about Finn?" Kurt asked. "There's still a few months before I leave."

Finn ignored him, still focussed on Blaine. "This is not something you can back out of lightly," Finn informed him. "If you have any doubts about this, hell, even about your relationship with Kurt, Blaine, I need to know this. Now. Kurt's in for the long haul, the really long haul. I need to know if you're the same."

"Would an engagement ring help?" Blaine asked, and Kurt's breath hitched as he realised that Blaine was only partially kidding. "Are you worried about your little brother living in sin?"

"I'm worrying about my little brother being in New York by himself if things don't work out between you two."

By himself. It all clicked into place for Kurt in that moment, and the humour and emotions (engagement ring!) faded as he focussed on those two words.

"Finn," Kurt said, feeling that telltale lump start reformulating itself in his throat, "you really do want to go to Berkeley, don't you?"

"I'm not going if I can't trust Blaine to take care of you," he stated firmly, briefly glancing at him. "If hobbit here can't promise me that he's going to make sure you're okay, I'm going to enrol into NYU so I can take care of you myself."

"You don't have to," Blaine promised, even as Kurt said loudly, "I won't let you!"

"Kurt-"

"Finn, no," Kurt declared, and reached out to take his hand. "I saw your face when you read that letter. You want to go to Berkeley. I won't let you give that up for me."

"Berkeley is in California, Kurt. I'll be over two thousand miles away. I won't be able to get to you immediately if you need me."

"You need to stop babying me," Kurt protested, dropping down so that they were eye-level. "Finn, you don't have to put that responsibility on Blaine. I can take care of myself. I can live on my own if I need to, but I won't have to. I have Blaine."

"Blaine hasn't lived with you Kurt," Finn protested. "He doesn't know that there are nights where you don't want to go to sleep because the memories are near. He doesn't know that when you say you're tired that you're going to go sit in a corner and pick at your arm. He doesn't know that he's going to have to drop a plate in front of you and demand you eat when you get engrossed in something because otherwise you'll just forget to. I know that."

"I can learn," Blaine piped up, but neither of them really paid much attention to him.

"Yes I want to go to Berkeley Kurt," Finn continued, "but I can learn the same in NYU as I can there. If you need me, I am going to come to New York with you."

"I don't want you too," Kurt said firmly. "Finn, I've told you this before. You've given up too much for me."

"I haven't."

"You have!" Kurt interjected. "I see so much more than you think I do Finn. Do you think I haven't noticed that Sam is the only one you really talk to anymore? You've stopped going out on weekends. You're never on your phone anymore or on social media and every time you come back from Football practice, you're always muttering about how stupid Puckerman is being. I've seen the slushie stains Finn, and you dropped out of glee club, dropped out. I know it's because of me, and I'm sorry."

"It wasn't all about you," Finn corrected, "I changed. I changed too much and they couldn't accept it."

"You changed for me and because of me," Kurt stated. "I love you Finn, but you can't continue living your life in a way that benefits me. I want you to do what you want to do because I want you happy. Blaine, I think that's what you were telling me."

"It was," he confirmed. "Finn, listen to Kurt. I swear to you that I will protect your brother, regardless of our future, although it will never come to that. I will keep Kurt safe, and he will do the same for me. So please, if you want to go to Berkeley, don't let us keep you back from your dream."

"Ditto," Kurt said in agreement, looking up at him pleadingly.

Finn stared deeply into his eyes, then turned, doing the same to Blaine. "Fine," he said finally, sinking back into the chair. "I'm going to trust the both of you with this. But if you need me Kurt, I will come. Never doubt that."

"That won't be necessary," Kurt told him, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Besides, I'd think that California would be a better state to study anyway, especially when you want to specialise in Physical Education."

Finn shot him a sheepish look then, and Kurt arched his brow when he rubbed at his neck nervously. "Actually...that's what I applied to study in New York little bro."

"What are you studying in Berkeley then?" Kurt asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously when Finn shot a glance towards Blaine.

"Umm...well...you know...Remember when I told you I was helping Ms P out?"

"Yeah, for extra credit. It was Blaine's idea."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't just learning management skills. She was helping me learn the basics of psychology."

"This is not going to be good," Blaine pointed out, and Finn shot him a helplessly nervous look as the pieces fell in place for Kurt and he backed away.

Kurt continued to stare at him with growing disbelief, before finally saying, "Finn Hudson, you're going to Berkeley to become the enemy and you encouraged him Blaine?!"


	30. Legacy

"Okay, we've got all the data organised now, right?" Trent asked, as he flopped back against his chair.

"Yes," Kurt confirmed, briefly glancing towards where Jeff was playing with his fingers. "I can feel that you know," he pointed out.

He expected his friend to give him a mischievous grin, but instead, he shrugged, but continued his actions, this time alternately intertwining and releasing Kurt's fingers from his. Kurt glanced at Trent who shot him a worried look, but didn't say anything. "We'll talk to everyone about this in the next meeting," Kurt continued. "It's not like we can relax about Nationals, but at least with this we know where we stand."

"Third overall, based on the Regional scores."

"We're lagging behind the first place team by ten points," Kurt added in, mostly for Jeff's benefit in case he decided to actually paying attention, "and we have to consider that there's an additional category of Originality this time."

"What exactly does that even cover?" Trent groused, not for the first time. "Song choice or routine?"

"Probably a mixture of both." Kurt glanced over to where Jeff was actually rolling up his sleeve now so he could poke at it. That he didn't feel as much; he just wanted to know what he was up to. He didn't want a repeat of the Kurt Jeff that he had written in permanent marker the day before Blaine had arrived for Spring Break. It had been ridiculous. Blaine had added to the design to include his own name superimposed over Jeff's while Kurt griped at the two of them that his arm was not a canvas for their 'battle' over him. "Anything to add Mr. Sterling?"

"Leave one song acapella," Jeff said, tugging at his skin. "That should be original enough."

"That's actually a great idea," Kurt stated, looking at Trent who nodded.

"We are the National Acapella Champions," he agreed, pride evident in his tone. "We should take advantage of that fact."

"Great! We can also warn George that there's no need to kill us this time around. We have the highest routine score going into this."

"He's just going to argue that the other teams will up their game to compensate, so we need to do the same."

"Let me have my delusions," Kurt complained. "Regardless, I think that's all we need to deal with for today right?"

"I think so," Trent confirmed. "We'll announce that the theme is "Time" and go through the results. Then we'll start seeing if anyone can come up with songs."

"Kurt should sing 'Memories'," Jeff offered in that same, not quite there tone he had been utilising all afternoon. "There's room for it to transition from a solo to a group number."

"From 'Cats'?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know that song," Trent admitted, "But I'll check it out tonight."

"Mmhmm."

Trent and Kurt shared a worried glance as Jeff seemingly went back to his thoughts, this time returning his attention to Kurt's fingers. "If that's all, I'm heading to the library. I promised to study with Matthew."

"Okay. I'll message you tonight."

"Cool," he returned, standing. His eyes lingered on Kurt, and he leant over to whisper in his ear. "See if you can figure out what's going on? I'll see if I can ask Phillip."

"I will," Kurt answered softly.

Nodding, Trent exited, after telling Jeff goodbye, something he hardly acknowledged. Kurt focussed fully on his friend now, allowing his worry to come fully to the surface. Jeff had been acting off a few days now, but never to the extent that Kurt felt it warranted to question him about. After all, everyone went through bad periods, and overall, Jeff easily snapped out of it. But today...today Jeff had been in this absentminded mood, in which he scarcely paid attention to anyone except Kurt, and even then, it was in this same absent-minded way.

Kurt had had to shoot Phillip a hopeless look at lunch when Jeff seemed more interested in playing with his carrots than conversing with him, and he had felt a pang of regret at the passing hurt look that crossed the junior's face. He had no doubt that Jeff would apologise whenever he had sorted himself out, but frankly, Phillip had to learn that this was the downside to having a boyfriend who suffered with depression. Kurt knew that Blaine had had to endure many of his mood-swings, and though Kurt knew that it could not have been pleasant for him, he had understood and endured through them to the good days, and Kurt would forever be grateful to him for it.

When Jeff straightened Kurt's fingers and laced his fingers around them, Kurt quickly clamped down with a strength that startled Jeff. He had grown used to Kurt's passivity as he sought his diversion.

"Caught you," Kurt whispered playfully, bumping their heads together.

"You're strong."

"That's all those silly exercises helping," Kurt answered, with a light shrug. "I'll show you something no one else knows," he added, releasing Jeff's fingers. It took him a few seconds of intense concentration, but he managed to cause his entire arm to jerk once. He let out a breath at that, but the effort was worth Jeff's surprised expression.

"You controlled that?"

"Yeah. I've managed that in the past month or so. It still takes a lot of effort though so I don't try it too often."

"That's awesome Kurt?"

"The treatment for it isn't," Kurt admitted with a frown. "Anthony puts electrodes all over my arm and shocks me with it."

"That sounds painful," Jeff said with a wince.

"It's uncomfortable," he informed him, "but that's just because my nerves aren't fully functioning to adequately process the pain. I didn't even realise how much it was supposed to hurt until he strapped them onto my good arm for me to feel it."

"Oh."

"And now I've shared my secret," he said, nudging Jeff, "it's your turn to spill."

Jeff glared at him, but in his current state the effect was comparably to an unhappy puppy, and Kurt resisted the urge to coo at him. "You tricked me."

"Isn't this the game we play?" he returned. "Now come on Jeff, talk to me."

Jeff's cheeks expanded with the force of the air he expelled. "You'll be mad at me," Jeff cautioned.

"I won't be."

"You'll be sad," he warned next, and that gave Kurt a moment's pause. He took a steadying breath before saying, "Then I will be sad, and we will work through this."

"You'll hate me."

"I'll never hate you," Kurt told him sincerely, even as he noted wryly, that not too long ago, he had been in Jeff's position spouting similar words.

"Promise?"

"Promise," Kurt confirmed, pinching his cheek. "Tell me."

"I did something," Jeff finally said. "It was a while ago, back when this thing between Nick and I was at its worst."

Kurt listened without comment, allowing his hand to rove Jeff's face and hair, assuring him that he was here and listening to what he had to say without judgement.

"I wasn't really thinking. I just knew that I wanted to leave and I ended up applying to a few schools I never told you about."

Kurt's hand hesitated only slightly before he resumed his task of smoothening a rather recalcitrant strand of hair. "That seems to be a growing trend recently," he thought, even as Jeff's prediction proved right. Even now he could feel sadness creeping up within him. He knew where this conversation was heading, and he tried to brace himself for it. "So," he said, trying valiantly to keep his voice upbeat. " Are you going to study in San Francisco or something?"

"A bit further than that," Jeff blurted out with a laugh that turned into a sob halfway.

Kurt cuddled closer to him instantly, even as he felt his own eyes prickle. "Tell me," he bid, his own voice a bit shaky.

"I got the acceptance letter on Friday. And I'm going. I'm going to attend Oxford University."

"In England?" Kurt squeaked out, unable to keep the shock and dismay out of his voice. "You're leaving the country?"

"I am," Jeff said, and now as Kurt looked at him, he could see tears welling in his eyes. "It's what I need to do. I'm so sorry Kurt. I told you I'd go to Columbia too, but that was before I got the letter and now...now that I have the chance, I need to leave."

"Why?" Kurt demanded, his breathing increasing minutely.

There was nothing in Jeff's history that would have prepared him for thisHis grandmother had been a Yale Graduate, and his grandfather was a Harvard man who'd done post-graduate studies in Columbia. Kurt had readily accepted that Jeff would follow the unofficial Dalton tradition where everyone went to their parents' alma mater which seemed okay because they would at least end up in the same vicinity. When Kurt had told him that he had settled upon Columbia, Jeff had whooped and declared that he no longer had any thinking to do. Their bromance would continue...and now… he was hearing this.

Kurt hadn't been prepared. Oh he knew that the time to say goodbye was approaching. The school year had only seven more weeks, and there were a few people who were departing before that due to early admissions. But still, Jeff was not one of the people he had thought that he would have to say goodbye to, and that thought stung him most of all.

"I thought that the best way to get over Nick would be to literally put some oceans between us."

"But you guys are better now. You're friends again aren't you? You told me that you guys were talking about moving in together."

"That's exactly why I need to go," Jeff explained, sorrow rife in his eyes, "why I have to accept this. Kurt...I cannot do that. I still love him. It hasn't faded in the least and it'll get worse if I get close to him again. We can't live together...be in the same city. I can't Kurt, not while I still love him like this. At least while I'm here in Ohio I can pretend that it still doesn't hurt. But to see him every day? To know that he's eventually going to come home and announce plans for a date? I cannot do that Kurt. It'll kill me."

"Then go somewhere far away. Go to Standford."

"Not far enough," Jeff told him sadly. "I need a clean break, a clean slate, and I cannot do that here. I know at least five Dalton guys who are there. They know me and they know about this. I need to just go where I can be Jeff Sterling with no attachments. Oxford is the only chance I have for that, to just start over, and that's what I need to do. I know I should have told you about this long ago, back when I applied even. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for what you need," Kurt responded, thumbing away the moisture from under his eyes. "Do you really think that this is best for you?"

"I do."

Kurt nodded at that, biting down hard on his lip. As much as it hurt, as much as he did not want this, if it was what Jeff considered to be best for him, then he would have to accept that. Blaine had for him. He had for Finn. And now he would for Jeff, his best friend, whom he would have to say goodbye to. "We're going to have to make the most of the next few weeks then," Kurt settled on saying, before letting out a huffed laugh when Jeff flung his arms around him in a near strangling hug.

"I'll miss you," Jeff whispered into his neck.

"This won't be the end of our bromance," Kurt returned, "let's just call it a future hiatus. Besides, I suddenly find myself having the desire to learn about Blaine's English heritage."

Jeff chuckled at that, pulling back to smile sadly at him. "I'm going to have to find a way to tell Phillip about this."

"And Nick," Kurt pointed out.

Jeff shook his head. "No. I'm not going to tell him about this."

* * *

Time seemed to pass exponentially faster after that afternoon, and more than once, Kurt wished that it would just stand still and give him the time to relish in what he had, and what was soon to be left behind. He kept the promise Jeff had reluctantly extracted from him and never breathed a word about his decision to Blaine because he knew that inevitably, Blaine would tell Nick. Their friendship was not negatively impacted by Jeff's revelation, if anything they grew closer than ever with the threat of time hanging over their heads. When he was not with Jeff, Kurt made concerted efforts to spend more time with his parents, and of course Finn. They were all coming to terms with their respective decisions, and Kurt just hoped that the old saying would prove right for him once again and that distance would truly make the heart grow fonder.

School work and the National competition kept them busy. Kurt knew that he was not the only one on the Council who threw all of his heart and soul into it, their final hurrah as members of the Dalton Warblers. It had been a pleasant surprise for them when Phillip had stood in a meeting and, on behalf of everyone, asked the three of them to take lead on a song together.

"It's fitting," Phillip had said simply, and Kurt knew that he was not the only one who had had to fight back emotions at that. Their teammates were giving them the leeway to go out as they had started the year, a trio of friends hoping for the best. And they gladly took the opportunity.

Resultantly, the theme of "Time" became deeply sentimental for them, and was reflected in their song choices. They did indeed perform "Memories" as per Jeff's suggestion, Phillip's voice beautifully intertwining with Kurt's during the acapella performance that had brought the audience, in this, their first song, to their feet. Their second song was much faster in tempo, and encouraged the audience to groove along with them and cheer boisterously at their choreography. George had pulled through for them again, and Kurt would find himself laughing when Burt threatened him with yet another grounding, but it was worth it for the audience's reaction. Their final song was a slowly paced, but deeply sentimental rendition of "I Lived", complete with a partly adlibbed choreography that allowed them to just go with whatever their hearts told them to do.

And if that meant at one point that Trent just stood there during the second verse as Jeff and Kurt sang to just look at the team he had helped shaped, and gotten to this point? Then it was fine. The judges rightly took in his expression as an artistic interpretation of the nostalgia and pride one could have about a joyful past you were ready to leave behind. And if Kurt, half way through, let his sling loose so that Jeff and himself could dance around the stage in a mimicry of a waltz, it was okay. Time was filled with moments of joy and silliness...and sadness...seen when, as they approached the bridge, tears started rolling down Jeff's face, so that Kurt and Trent had to buffer him, his hands in each of theirs as the brought the song to a roaring conclusion, the three not going into their ending poses in favour of a hug and words whispered to each other above the screaming applause of those watching.

Kurt had shot one look into the vast audience, chest heaving as he took in their appreciation, knowing that no matter what the results was, they had gone out on top, just as they wanted. There was nothing better for him in that moment. Well, he would later amend, the first place trophy Trent lifted into the air alongside all the other awards they took home that day (including Best Male Vocal for Kurt himself) was pretty much just the icing on top of the world's most scrumptious cake.

And just like that, it brought them to this, their final meeting for the year as the Councilmen of the Warblers, and, looking at the book in front of them, the very one they had read at the start of the year, brought back all of the memories to them. They spent that afternoon together with the doors to the Common room locked to ensure that no one would disturb them, and they laughed and cried, and did everything in between. Just like all who had passed before them, they wrote their own words of wisdom and advice, stuck in a picture of themselves underneath the one of Wes, David and Thad.

They went over all their memories, not only of that year, but the ones before that. Jeff re-enacted Kurt's epic confrontation with Priscilla. Trent told Kurt about the first time he had been given an active singing role, back in his freshman year and he had just froze onstage leading to two of the then Council members running up to assist him. Kurt relived just how much of an impact the Warblers on the whole had had on him and thanked them for accepting him at the lowest point of his life, and for helping him to reach this, the strongest.

They stripped off their blazers and pranced around the room, singing loudly at the top of their voices, jumped from tables to couches and just rocked out in the middle of the room, until finally, exhausted, they collapsed in a heap on the carpet together, interlacing their fingers as they sought to catch their breath.

"I think we did good guys," Trent said simply, in between harsh, panting breaths.

"I think we did great," Jeff corrected, twisting his head enough so that he could grin brightly into Trent's face.

Kurt didn't say anything, too out of breath. But by the smile on his face despite the tears that still lingered, they knew that he was in agreement with them.

They had succeeded in their goal.

The Warblers had been transformed as they had wanted to do.

And now the time had come for them to release their hold on the team and let the next generation take over.


	31. Graduation

Kurt lifted his sunglasses off his face, not wanting his view of the school in front of him to be besmirched in any way. "William McKinley High School," he said softly to himself, "we meet again."

Slowly, Kurt walked away from his Navigator, passing the spot where Mercedes had put a hole through his car's windshield. Looking back it seemed odd that she was the only one who had been ignorant about his true sexuality. He slowed as he neared the dumpsters, now repainted. Finn had tossed him into that the third week of freshman year, and Mr. Schuester hadn't even realised that something was wrong with the situation. Far from being angered, Kurt chuckled at the memory. He had sassed Finn quite good that day; it had been well worth the dumpster dive. As he headed up the stairs to the buildings, Kurt noted that he felt not an ounce of reservation or fear, recalling, with slight chagrin how his father and a pensive Blaine had been with him while he sobbed in a bathroom, too overwhelmed by everything. He certainly had changed.

No one really took note of him, but then again, only the seniors would really know who he was, and even then, he was no longer that smaller, chubby-cheeked kid with flamboyant clothing walking timidly around. If anyone recognised him as he strolled through the halls, they certainly did not say anything. He didn't have school due to a Parent-Teacher conference for the lower years, and while he had spent most of the day hanging out with Trent and Jeff in Westerville, he had decided to come here now that classes were over to surprise Finn for one of their few remaining Hudmel brother dates.

Walking to where he assumed he would be, Kurt allowed some of the memories of the place to drift back to him, and, to his surprise, not all of them were negative. He, Mercedes and Tina had had a good few conversations and laughs in that girl's washroom, and Rachel had often accosted him at his locker that was now painted a rather interesting shade of grey. Idly he wondered who it belonged to now, not that it mattered after all this time. He just hoped that its new owner was having a better time with it than he had ever had. The one place he avoided though was the choir room. He wasn't even entirely certain they bothered to practice anymore, although Finn had mentioned once that they had taken to performing at parties to stay relevant. He simply had nothing to say to them collectively as a group, or, for the most part, individually. And so, even if it added an extra few minutes to his walk, he took the longer way to the soon to be Mrs. Schuester's office.

"Well look who's not too good for Westerville anymore."

Kurt stopped at the sarcastic voice, turning to see Puckerman exiting a classroom. Kurt stifled the urge to frown as a Cheerio, fixing her uniform, snuck around him and left, after passing her hand rather suggestively over the jock's hip.

"Puckerman," he said neutrally, while inwardly wondering how quickly he could get out of this conversation. His connection to the jock had faded with the ending of his and Finn's friendship, and he was more than aware that Puckerman rarely had good things to say about him.

"Why are you here?" he asked. "I thought you pissed your pants anytime some said McKinley," he added with a mild sneer.

"And I thought you'd have realised by now that roadkill is not a hairstyle," he shot back. "I'm here to pick up Finn."

Not wanting to waste anymore of his time with a conversation that would do nothing but sour his mood, Kurt turned and continued walking.

"You ruined him, you know," Puck called after him.

"What?" he asked, pausing.

"Finn," he continued, and when Kurt looked over his shoulder, he could see a glower on the teenager's face. "You ruined everything for him."

"How so?" he inquired dryly. "My brother seems fine from where I'm standing."

"Fine? He turned down a football scholarship to go to some preppy college in California," Puck said. "You did that to him. Why couldn't you just leave him alone? You had to drag him into that stupid gay-Hogwarts life didn't you? He used to party with me, hang out with me all the time. And that all stopped because of you. If it wasn't "Kurt needs me" or "Kurt's had a bad day" it was "I'm studying with Kurt" or "Blaine gave me some papers that I want to go through". "

"You're angry Finn decided not to be a next Lima Loser?" Kurt replied incredulously. "What do you want him to do? Clean pools with you for the rest of his days?"

"So you still think you're better than us now?" Puck asked, walking closer. "It was that attitude of yours that always got you into trouble."

"Ignorant jocks got me into trouble," Kurt retorted, lifting his chin defiantly, "and you're proving quite nicely that nothing has changed."

That habit of his had not changed, Kurt idly noted. He could see that he was aggravating Puck, and while a part of him warned against it, the more reckless part of him that had probably exacerbated the number of locker slams he had received prodded at him. It was a recklessness that he had not felt in a while, and frankly, he welcomed it.

"You changed him," Puck reiterated, stopping a few feet away from him. "You took my best friend away."

"Your best friend grew up," he replied simply, "and you chose to stay the same. You can't blame anyone but yourself for that. You pushed him away. And if you have any regrets about that, maybe that's a conversation you should have with him."

That seemed as snappy an ending line as Kurt knew he was capable of making, and so, without another word, he spun and continued off, Puck, thankfully, not following him.

Kurt heard Finn's voice from within the guidance counsellor's office, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He really had not been in the mood to start a manhunt for him, especially when it seemed likely that he might be drawn in to a next unwanted conversation. Briefly, he wondered if he should mention it to Finn, but then again, it might do nothing except worry him, so perhaps it was an incident he should keep to himself. He waited until the muted conversation seemed to hit a lull before he knocked, seeking entrance. He was still wrapping his mind about Finn wanting to become a psychologist, but, the more he thought about it, the more he could envision it. Finn was always the one who could help him find peace and clarity when no one else could, and he had a gentle way of imparting words of wisdom that one could not help but agree with. Truthfully, if he had had a therapist with a nature nearer to his, Kurt knew that he might not have rebelled as much in the sessions. Maybe his brother truly was what the field needed, and he was happy for him.

"Kurt!" Finn said in surprise as he entered. "What are you doing here?"

"To collect you for dinner and movies," he replied hopefully, even as he opened his arm as Mrs. P approached him.

"Hello Kurt," she told him, hugging him carefully.

He returned the embrace with genuine affection. She had always treated him with kindness, both before and after he had passed from her care. And now she had set Finn upon a path to success. How could he not like her? He hid a grin as she immediately reached for a wet wipe to start cleansing her hands.

"Congratulations on winning Nationals," she told him. "Will and I watched it. Your performance was excellent."

"Thank you," he replied, dropping into the free armchair beside Finn, briefly resting his head on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he inquired, taking in the folder pages in neat piles on the desk in front of him.

"Ms P's helping me come up for ideas for my speech," Finn replied, rather sheepishly.

Kurt arched a brow at him. What speech? After a moment, he made the connection between his brother's words and his demeanour. "Wait," he said, incredulously, "You have spent every possible moment over the past week teasing me, and you're valedictorian too?!"

Finn shrugged helplessly, even as the guidance counsellor laughed daintily. "He found out this morning."

"It's staff's choice," he said helplessly.

"Finn's overall GPA is among the highest of the year," she explained proudly. "That, his behaviour and his extra-curricular activities made it an easy decision. We hope that the turnaround from his freshman year coupled with what he has accomplished will serve to inspire those to come."

Kurt reached over, and, despite his previous words, clasped his shoulder in congratulations. Their parents would be doubly proud. Kurt's own selection had come as a shock to him. Dalton's procedure for the process was far more complicated. The deans compiled a list of all the students who met their rigid criteria. Those students were then placed onto an online voting list where the seniors were allowed to pick their choice candidates. The top five were then interviewed by the principal and after that the valedictorian and salutatorian was selected. Kurt could still remember his disbelief when the online results were made available. He hadn't even given it much thought besides casting his vote for Trent.

And so, upon receiving Jeff's excited call, he had logged back into the system to see that he had garnered over seventy percent of the votes, followed by Trent and the captain of the Lacrosse team, Henry. In hindsight, he was truly the only person surprised by the outcome. As Mr. Kentwood had told him, he had had the most tribulations to face out of all of them and had conquered them with a valiant effort. Even if he did not see it, he had served as an inspiration to many. Who else among them best encapsulated what it meant to be a student of Dalton?

"I'm not the only one who has a speech to worry about now," Kurt teased.

"Yeah well, you don't laugh at me during mines, and I won't at yours."

"Deal," he agreed.

A few minutes later, after extracting a promise for further assistance from the redheaded woman, the pair left, Finn's arm casually slung around him.

"So you know this dinner is your treat right?" he stated. "I am after all valedictorian."

"So am I."

"But I'm taller."

"You can't pull that card," Kurt shot back with a laugh.

"You're just upset that you'll never surpass me."

"Whatever Frankenteen."

Caught up in their banter as they were, neither noticed a petite figure further down the corridor, her face buried in her locker. The girl pulled out, and glared at them. They only noticed her presence when she stalked up to them, hands clenched.

"You," she hissed out, with a surprising amount of venom, startling them.

"What is it today?" Kurt grumbled, taking in her expression. "And what did I do to you, Rachel?"

"This is all your fault!" she snapped, taking a step forward menacingly.

Kurt resisted an eye-roll when Finn instinctively pulled him a bit behind him defensively. He had dealt with Puckerman, he could certainly handle one Rachel Berry.

"What do you want Rachel?" Finn demanded, and Kurt found himself mildly surprised by the coldness of his tone. He was glad he had never had that particular voice directed at him.

"This is not between us Finn," she stated.

"What did I do?" Kurt repeated, resting a staying hand on Finn's arm as the jock meant to bypass her and continue on. He knew that Finn was worried about how he would react to a confrontation, but he knew that he could handle this. "I haven't spoken to you since December," he continued, "and now that I have the chance, there is really something I want to say."

"You ruined my chances!" Rachel bit out, ignoring his words. "You took it all away."

"You are making no sense right now," Finn groused.

"NYADA!" Rachel screeched angrily. "You took NYADA away from me! They gave you my place."

Kurt was stunned. Was she really saying…? "You didn't get in?" he asked plainly, cutting through whatever she was still babbling.

"I didn't," she confirmed, her voice breaking over the words. "You got in over me. It's not fair! You didn't even want to go there!"

"You knew that and still applied for me," Kurt snapped right back, quickly losing sympathy.

"You can't blame Kurt for this," Finn interjected. "I heard the rumours Rachel. You choked in your audition. How did you expect to get in after that?"

The girl's chest heaved for several seconds as she glared at him. "I would have found a way. But he took that chance away. You took everything away!"

"She's finally gone crazy," Kurt muttered, fed up with the situation. Occasionally he had thought about what he would say to her if they ever came face to face. He had planned on unleashing a fury not seen since his time with Priscilla upon her, but right now, looking at how thinly strung she seemed to be, he was starting to lose his annoyance, feeling only sympathy. She was clearly near the end of her ropes, and, as he now remembered, she had had no intentions then of applying to any other school. What if she hadn't heeded him and had gone ahead with that foolish plan? It would explain her state. She was now firmly stuck in Lima, which he knew was her greatest fear.

"If you had just come back to McKinley like you were supposed to," she said, and now pain was entering her tone alongside anger, "the Warblers would have never won. We," she said, gesturing to Finn, "would have gone on to Nationals and won like we deserved and I would have found a way to get Madame Tibedeaux to come see me perform. I know she would have accepted me if she could just see me sing. Me choking? That was a one-time thing."

"Maybe you should have sent a tape of yourself instead," Finn sniped, and Kurt watched as she recoiled. That, he knew, given the situation, was a particularly low blow. But he wasn't certain that he faulted him for saying it.

She recovered quickly though, swallowing deeply before saying again. "You got into NYADA because of me Kurt. Are you really going to live my dream?"

"You tried to foist your dream onto me," Kurt rebutted. "Don't stand there pretending like you applied for me out of the goodness of your heart, Rachel Berry. You just decided that you wanted your Gay BFF in New York with you. I told you how I felt and you didn't listen. I'm not going to feel bad now that you didn't get in."

"Give up your spot for me."

Finn scoffed beside him at the absurdity of her words. Even if it were possible, did she think that NYADA would suddenly call her if someone didn't accept a place? Briefly, Kurt considered telling her about the true nature of his college plans, but, she had done nothing so far to prove being worthy of knowing it.

"No," he said simply instead. "I earned my place under my own merit. You should have planned ahead like I told you to," he said dismissively, and tugging at Finn, moved to walk past her.

"NYADA was my dream," she repeated, turning as they passed.

Kurt's steps faltered at the brokenness of her tone. Memories of his time with her unbidden flashed through his mind, and although he did not want to recall it, his heart prodded him that, once upon a time, they had been friends, friends who shared a common passion. He remembered them sitting at a desk, pouring over the brochures, the grand plans they had made. They were going to conquer Broadway, they had said.

He paused, in his walking, and twisted to meet her stare. He saw the profound sadness in her brown gaze, and, while he could not bring himself to offer comfort, out of respect for the friendship they had once had, he told her, "There's more than one way to Broadway Rachel. What do you think Barbra would do if she were you?"

And with that, they left.

* * *

The ceremony was over, all speeches made and hats tossed. His time as a high school student was now over, and, far from feeling melancholy about it, Kurt found himself ecstatic, celebrating with his classmates about this feat they had accomplished. As he had noted in his speech, the time for scripted life was over. They had, thus far, conformed to what society had expected of them by finishing their mandatory schooling. Whatever they chose to do now from this moment forward, was entirely of their choosing.

Kurt laughed loudly as Finn pulled him out of his father's embrace and lifted him bodily into the air. He hung on tightly as his brother spun him around for several long moments, before kissing his forehead once he finally decided upon settling him back on his feet. Dalton's ceremony had been considerably more formal than his the previous day, but the sentiments passing between them was the same. They had done the impossible, what few outside of their family believed they could have accomplished. They were both graduates of high school, and soon would be out of their tiny town.

A pair of familiar arms wrapped around his waist, and Kurt instinctively leant his head back against Blaine's shoulder, smiling when his grip tightened. "I am so very proud of you," he whispered into his ear.

"Thank you," he returned softly, before smiling as he felt his lips against his cheek.

"Carole!" he protested a second later when a camera flashed in front of him.

"I can't let Pamela have all the fun," she retorted and Kurt groaned. Sticking to tradition, Blaine's mother had sent her media team to film the entire thing, and he was pretty certain that that was a hired cameraman over to their left taking pictures of them.

"It'll look great next to the one from Blaine's graduation," she continued, and Kurt couldn't help but agree, thinking about the candid shot of him leaning up to peck his gown clad boyfriend's cheek. There would be many more of those photos in the future, he thought fondly.

"Hands off my man Anderson!" Jeff shouted as he pranced towards him, gown already discarded, his grandparents following behind at a more sedate pace.

Blaine groaned in mock annoyance, but headed the command. Laughing, Kurt allowed Jeff to hug him, knowing that without a doubt he was making some sort of face at his boyfriend over his shoulder.

"Pictures!" Carole declared, and rolling his eyes fondly, he endured it, and yup, that was definitely one of Pamela's cameramen.

"Congratulations on graduating," Blaine told his blonde friend when finally, he released Kurt. Kurt chortled loudly when, Blaine, feinted and took Jeff's head beneath his arm, tousling it roughly. His boys were all together, he thought happily, watching their antics.

The smile on his face died seconds later, when he noticed a suit clad young adult come up beside Jeff's grandparents. "Jeff," he called, his tone a bit wooden now, and his friend, well versed in his tones by now, looked up from his assault on Blaine, instantly on alert. His hands fell away from Blaine instantly, and Kurt could see the colour fading from his cheeks.

"Nick," he said flatly, before shooting Kurt a questioning look.

"I didn't tell him," Kurt said quickly, even as Blaine came to his side, a puzzled look on his face. Nick had not mentioned anything about coming to Ohio to him.

"Then why-"

"I told him," Jeff's grandfather interrupted, his eyes on the boy he had raised. "It's not at all fair that you were not planning on telling him Jeffery."

Jeff's mouth opened and closed, as if he could not decide on what to say.

"What's going on poppet?" Blaine asked, his eyes going from one to the other.

"I have to talk to you Jeff," Nick said, before Kurt could enlighten him, his voice serious.

"I-"

"Now Jeff," he demanded, and turned, walking away.

"Go on Jeff," his grandmother bid, "do the right thing."

It seemed the furthest thing from what Jeff wanted to do, but, with all of their eyes on him, he could do little but follow Nick.

"Kurt?" Blaine repeated.

Kurt reached up and placed his arm onto his boyfriend's chest. "I'll tell you," he promised, watching as they went out of sight. "But, let me find Trent first? I want to say goodbye before he goes. He's heading to Europe in the morning, and I don't know if I'll get the chance to see him again before we go to New York."

Acquiescing, Blaine walked away with him.

Nick did not stop walking until they had arrived at the spot on the grounds where, away from their friends, they had spent countless hours alone. He leant against the tree trunk, watching as Jeff, more sedately, approached.

"So I've hurt you so much that you've decided to flee the country?" Nick asked without preamble as soon as he was certain Jeff could hear him.

Jeff didn't respond immediately. What was he supposed to say? This was exactly why he hadn't wanted Nick to find out about this until he was well out of the country. How was he supposed to make him understand that he just couldn't stay?

"I thought we were past…that, Jeff," he continued. "Aren't you dating Phillip?"

"I'm not in love with Phillip," he responded, latching onto the easiest question. "I broke it off with him last week. He deserves better than a boyfriend who keeps wishing that he was making out with someone else."

"You're still in love me then?"

"I never stopped," Jeff admitted, struggling to keep his tone level. "And don't tell me you didn't know this."

Nick shrugged. "I thought things were looking up when you hooked up with Phillip," he admitted. "I figured that once you started dating someone else the feelings would fade."

"Well they haven't," Jeff snapped, "and I don't think that they will go away until I am far far away from you. I need to start over, Nick."

"From what?" he asked, incredulously. "You act as if your life has been one continuous tragedy."

"It has been in all the ways that count," he returned. "And please, don't think it's only because I'm in love with you that I'm leaving. Do you realise just how similar I've ended up being to my father Nick, my biological father? I'm older now than he will ever be, but that doesn't say much when I'm going down the same road like him."

"What are you even talking about?"

"I drink, just like he did. I have depression, just like I know he did. I'm rash and reckless and wickedly smart in a way that speaks to future disaster. I get as obsessed over the smallest of things like he did Nick, and unfortunately, it's not drugs. I'm obsessed with being in love with you."

"Is that what your therapist says?" Nick asked, recalling Blaine speaking about similar bouts of self-loathing words from Kurt. "Maybe you need a new shrink."

"Don't dismiss my feelings," Jeff demanded.

"Maybe you shouldn't have dismissed Phillip," Nick returned, blandly. "That kid is infatuated with you."

"That kid would just stick around hoping that one day I'll fall in love with him," Jeff answered. "He's lucky I set him free now."

"Just like you're going to free yourself from me?"

"Yes," Jeff said decisively. "I can't stay here Nick. It hurts too goddamn much to be around you. So I'm going to go away and hope that the distance helps me fall out of love with you and solves all my other problems."

"Or maybe you're just going away so that no one will recognise when you lose control," Nick snapped, and the subtle widening of Jeff's eyes was the confirmation he needed. "If you go to England where no one knows you, you can do as you please and no one would suspect different. You'd be dead in a few years if you get on that plane. What'll it be? More and more infrequent calls until people forget about you? And then, just when you think that no one's left who cares much about you, you'll do it, and it'll just be a small article in some British paper about yet another foreign student who lost all control?

"Do you know what your grandfather said when he called me? He said that he and your grandmother are worried sick over you and they didn't know what to do. You're insisting that no one goes with you, even though your grandmother is fully prepared to move to England with you. You don't want her to go as well, you didn't want me to know, because we're among the very few who know just how dark you can go. And you are damn crazy Jeffery Sterling, if you think I am going to let you leave."

Jeff was shaking by the time that Nick finally quieted, quickly losing the battle to keep his thoughts and emotions in check.

"I can't stay," he repeated, his eyes downcast. "You have to let me go. You'll be fine without me Nick. You don't love me. You will be fin-"

Jeff's words were cut off, because, swifter than he could predict, Nick closed the distance between them and grabbed his upper arms. Jeff, startled, looked up, only for his eyes to close, when, almost savagely, Nick pressed their lips together in a desperate kiss. How long it lasted, he did not know, but he felt it all, the emotions and feelings that Nick was pouring into the kiss. He could not help but latch onto him, savouring it.

"You…you kissed me," Jeff said disbelievingly, when finally, Nick pulled back, although his arms remain.

"I love you, you fool," Nick spat out, pressing their heads together. "I love you. I love you enough to want you alive and by my side. And if that means that I have to find a way to love you and fall in love with you, then dammit, I will. So please, please Jeff, tell me that you will stay."


	32. Epilogue

"You know you don't have to do this?" Kurt told Jeff softly, as he clasped their fingers together.

Three weeks had passed since graduation, and despite Nick's pleas, Jeff did not renege on his decision. And so, after one last attempt, Nick had washed his hands of the entire situation, and had walked away from Jeff, not knowing if he would ever see him alive again. Only Kurt and Blaine went to the airport to say a final goodbye to him, something that Jeff admitted he was fine with. "You're the one I'm going to miss most Kurt," he said, before, rather flippantly adding, "oh and you too Blaine," before dancing away as the said teenager tried to tap him.

Kurt laughed silently at their antics, focussing on that, the joy he felt watching them together and not on the melancholy fact that soon enough, Jeff's grandparents would return and tell him that it was time to go. Eventually, Jeff broke away from Blaine and came back to where Kurt was standing. Meeting his gaze, Kurt saw that he was not the only one having conflicting emotions, and so he reached out and took his hand into his.

"You can stay if you want to." Kurt said, his voice reflecting his contrasting emotions. "It's not too late."

Jeff's lips tilted upwards in a sombre smile. His expression said it all; even if it was hard, he wanted to go. Kurt nodded, swallowing deeply, and settled for squeezing his hand tighter. "I'll miss you Jeff. So very much."

Jeff nodded, quick and jerky and Kurt saw the way his eyes were starting to moisten with unshed tears. "Permission Blaine?" Jeff asked, after a moment, his free hand lifting to cup Kurt's cheek.

Blaine, who had stood a little way away from them to give them a bit of privacy, looked between the two of them before responding, "Just this once."

"Afraid he'll come with me?" Jeff quipped, before leaning forward. Kurt met him halfway, and their lips met in a gentle kiss, their first since that chaotic night oh so long ago. Kurt inhaled into it, trying to convey all his feelings and emotions, all the things that just could not be said to Jeff through that kiss, and he knew that Jeff was doing the same. When they finally parted, Kurt felt a bit freer inside, and so, was able to hug him and keep a genuine smile on his face, minutes later when, walking between his grandparents, Jeff turned and gave him one final smile before he disappeared from view.

"Blaine," Kurt said shakily, his tone slightly lost, once he had faded from view, and instantly he felt his boyfriend's sturdy arms wrap around him as Blaine pulled him into his chest, kissing the top of his head.

"He'll be back, poppet," Blaine promised, hugging him close. "Don't worry. He will be back one day."

That one day did eventually come, and frankly, a lot sooner than anyone could have imagined. A few days after Nick had returned to his home in Westerville after the successful conclusion of his second year, he would hear, and ignore, the sound of a car coming up the gravel-covered road to his parent's house. He would ignore the way his phone lit up because he wasn't quite in the mood to deal with anyone. What he could not ignore was a distinctive six patterned rap on his door minutes later, a sound composed years ago in a tent pitched in the yard between two little boys determined to create a code they could call their own. He would sit up then and stare at his door in disbelief as it creaked open and he would find Jeff standing there, taller, far too thin and considerably longer-haired. But it would be him, his Jeff. They would embrace long and hard before tumbling back onto the floor of his room, both talking too quickly, their words indiscernible between laughs and some tears. It would be up to Nick's mother, passing, to smile fondly at them before closing the door and telling her husband to call his best friend, whom, as she rightfully suspected given the suitcases that Jeff had left in the foyer, had no idea that his grandson had returned to the states.

Everyone would receive a different answer as to why he had chosen to return. To his grandparents he would simply shrug and reply that he had found nothing in England to warrant him remaining there. His grandparents, doubtful, but relieved, would work their magic. Yale would accept him; his earned credits would transfer and he would start again. To everyone's chagrin he would switch a semester later to Columbia because "I needs me more Kurtsie," but his education would settle down from there.

To Kurt he would admit a crippling loneliness and isolation that had driven him to despair. The same desire for a fresh start had worked against him; no one had seemed accepting of his eccentric behaviour, and fed-up, he had returned to the place where it seemed that he belonged.

To Nick he would admit the nearest thing to the truth. That he had made a choice that very day he had arrived at his home in Westerville, hungry, exhausted and so goddam alone. In his left hand he had held a plane ticket, in his right a bottle of pills. Nick would crush his head into his shoulder, and whisper a prayer of relief to a God he rarely acknowledged that Jeff had gotten onto that plane. He had not lost his best friend, and as far as he was concerned, everything would now be okay.

They would decide against becoming roommates at first, but would eventually end up spending so much time at each other's apartments that, as Jeff would tell Kurt, Nick had showed up one day for a movie night, and never returned to his own place again. It was not smooth sailing, far from it. Nick would never be able to fulfil that rash promise to fall in love with Jeff, but truthfully, Jeff had never expected, nor wanted that to be the case. He had accepted that while they were indeed what people would deem soulmates, the love between them was not meant to surpass the platonic stage.

With time, therapy, and, in Jeff's final Undergraduate year, a ridiculously handsome and witty teaching assistant, he would go on to find a deeper, true love with someone who could and would return his feelings with equal ferocity. And though he would forever battle depression, it would never again, take over his life. He, surprisingly ended up married before Nick, and all who knew them from the start would laugh at the bemused expression on his husband and Nick's long-term girlfriend turned eventual wife' faces when, right there, in the middle of the reception, Nick would tip Jeff over for a congratulatory kiss.

No one could ever claim the nature of their friendship to be normal, but it was a friendship that would last till the very end.

* * *

Finn ended up leaving first. He had wanted to get a head start in California to learn about the place he would now call home before the pressure of academics descended upon him. On his final night in his home, after ensuring that there was nothing that he had missed that would be needed immediately, he walked the short distance to Kurt's room, and, after knocking, let himself in. Kurt was on his window-sill, a booklet of class listings for Columbia in his lap. He looked around, surprised to find him the only occupant in the room.

"Where's Blaine?" he asked, as he squeezed into the window seat beside him.

"He left a while ago," Kurt explained, closing the book. "He didn't say, but I think he wanted to give us this last night alone. Did you pack everything?"

"I've gone over your list twice," Finn confirmed, while mentally making a note to text Blaine at some point. If he thought that he could get away without giving him a proper goodbye, he was mistaken. "I have everything."

"And you're sure you don't want any of us to come with you?"

Finn shook his head. "I want to do this solo kiddo."

"What if you show up and the apartment is nothing like the pictures?" Kurt groused. "What if there's already three guys and twenty seven mice living in it?"

"Then I'll have to buy twenty seven rat traps and claim a bit of space for myself," he joked, reaching out to place his hand on Kurt's knee. "I will be okay, Kurt," he said reassuringly.

"It's just...we've never been apart from each other for so long before," Kurt admitted, looking at him worriedly. "What if you wake up in the middle of the night and need me?"

Finn smiled sadly at that; Kurt was projecting his feelings onto him. "If that is the case," he answered, playing along, "I would call you, because no matter what time it was, I know that you'd be willing to talk to me until I'm ready to go back to sleep."

His little brother looked at him for a moment after that, before he nodded. "You're coming home for Thanksgiving right?"

"I am. And we're all flying out to New York for Christmas. And since all our schools thankfully share the same Reading Week, you and Blaine will come to California in the spring and we'll all come back here to Ohio for a bit in the summer."

Kurt nodded at that. "And we'll message each other every day, even if it's nonsense."

"And we'll leave long voice notes whenever we can't manage to call."

"And Skype three times a week."

"And write letters because it's a dying art."

"And we'll be okay, because we're brothers."

"And we love each other."

"And always will."

Finn would not look back after his final goodbyes, because, he knew that if he did it, he would never have been able to get on that plane. Berkeley was everything that he dreamed up and more. He made friends who respected both him and his ambitions, he was free from all the drama that had plagued him in high school, and while he was not able to care for his younger brother to the extent that he had during before, he still kept tabs on him and celebrated all of his milestones. He graduated, on time, with Honours four years later, and with recommendations in hand, and a lot of consideration, he decided that, despite the life he had made for himself in California, there was a city that he wanted to be in just a little bit more. And so, newly graduated, he and a classmate made the leap to New York, to Kurt and Blaine's joy. He would find employment, first as an intern and then as a full time employee in an office specialised on dealing with LGBTQ youths in need.

Two years on with that, after a random idea in a session produced great results, he would enrol for a Masters of Philosophy in Psychology, with a special interest in Musical Therapy. Kurt would, to his own chagrin, readily become his Guinea pig whenever required, and, Finn would go on to make deep in roads into the field. He would eventually upgrade to a full PHD and would establish a highly reputable centre of his own.

Love would find him eventually in the form of a blonde Criminologist whom he would marry after a lengthy courtship. He would ultimately lose her to the very job she dedicated her life to, but her compassion and sense of justice would live on in their twins. Like their parents, in middle-age, Finn would remarry, coming across his second wife in, of all places, Ohio, It would take a family dinner to introduce her to the clan for Blaine, after staring at her oddly for a minute, to laugh and point out the connect. She turned out to be the very same girl he had met at the Warbler's celebration party all those years ago but had never quite managed at the time to make a connection with. She, a divorcee, would bring with her to the relationship a daughter whom he would adopt and raise as his own.

He and Kurt would return to Lima, emboldened by a conversation Kurt would finally admit he had had with his former high school best friend. Determined to make a difference they would establish programmes and centres that gave Lima's children and teenagers a wide range of opportunities. With their help, the status of 'Lima Loser' would not be something a child born in the town was destined to have. Only those who failed to try would find themselves stuck in the cycle of mediocrity.

* * *

"Is it weird that I'm grateful this happened?" Kurt asked.

Blaine's head popped up from behind the lid of the suitcase he was packing. "Grateful for what, sweetheart?" he asked, reaching for a next pile of shirts.

"My arm. The attack," Kurt elaborated.

Blaine tilted his head as he looked at him. "Explain please," he bid, "and you haven't packed your meds yet."

"You are too perceptive," Kurt grumbled, and Blaine chuckled as he, reluctantly, tossed it in. "What I was saying," he continued after a moment, "I think that, as horrible as the attack was, that I'm a bit grateful that it happened."

"Why?"

Kurt twisted his mouth minutely before responding. "If I hadn't been attacked, what do you think would have happened? If Karofsky hadn't hurt me, I wouldn't have gotten enrolled into Dalton. If that hadn't happened, I wouldn't have gotten to meet you. Everything would have been different, don't you think? Would I be in love now? Would I even be heading for school in New York, and if I was, to where? NYADA? I'm not sure, because I didn't become serious about my work until I got into Dalton. I could be in Rachel's position now, without a school nor a clue about what to do. Would Finn even be in Berkeley? Would the New Directions and not the Warblers have taken home the National's trophy?"

"Those are a lot of ifs and woulds," Blaine said, closing the lid. "I can't say what would have happened if you hadn't been attacked, Kurt. I would hope that somehow or another we still would have met. Maybe at Regionals? Or maybe the bullying would have gotten so bad that you would have transferred into Dalton anyway. Or maybe years into that future, I would have come across you in New York, taken one look at you and decided that yes, he's the one I've got to make mine. You complete me Kurt, filled in the blind spots in my life that I hadn't even realised that I had had until I met you. I think we are soulmates and were always meant to be, and that, if it hadn't been like this, we would have met somehow, somewhere."

"You really have that much faith in me? In us?" Kurt answered softly.

Blaine crawled over so that he was seated directly next to Kurt amidst the chaos on the floor. He lifted his left hand and tapped on the promise ring he had placed there a little under a year ago. "We gave each other these rings for a reason Kurt. It was to remind us of the love we had and the love we would always have. That love has only grown over time and I don't think that it will ever stop growing. So yes, Kurt, I have faith in you and faith in us. How can I not when the universe has given me the greatest gift it could, time with you?"

"I love you," Kurt whispered, his cheeks dusted pink by the nature of his boyfriend's words.

"And I love you," Blaine returned, cupping his cheek, "now, and always."

Their love would indeed stand the test of time. When Kurt finally moved into the apartment in New York, neither of them found any aspect of it strange. Yes they learnt of a few new habits and ticks each other had, but after a few weeks, they could scarcely recall a time when they did not live together in this common space. Blaine would graduate and join his father's company. He would compromise with him after a year; unlike him, Blaine truly could not adopt to a travelling lifestyle, especially when Kurt, for now, could not go with him. And so, he returned to school, this time at Columbia to pursue a Master Degree in Business Administration and Marketing.

Upon graduation, his father would give him control of the American side of the business, and he, over time, would relocate and manage a large sector of it in New York, his youth and innovative way of handling clients improving the yields of the company beyond what anyone could have ever expected. His father would agree to assist running the New York branch for a bit when Blaine followed his husband and brother-in-law to Ohio. Blaine would take over as the Warbler's very first Musical Director and lead them to a two year winning streak while the brothers worked on their dream. Upon his return to New York Blaine would continue with his renewed passion song and, would eventually launch a small music agency specialising in Indie and Alternative music. His mother would take an interest, and with her assistance, that venture would too become profitable, profits, Blaine would then donate yearly to worthy charities.

Kurt would find out that the pathway he had settled upon would indeed not be easy. His academic advisor had plainly laid the truth out to him; he could attend school year round for four years, and graduate on time, or else he could have more relaxed, but still hard, five years of study. Initially he decided upon the five year approach, because otherwise, he would have had no room for the internship programmes that had played such a big part in his decision to attend Columbia in the first place. And that, turned out to be a decision for the best. He successfully gained an internship at in the editorial department. But, somehow, the comments he had made on a few styles had mistakenly ended up in the folder of Isabella Wright and he had nervously found himself in a meeting with her, the result of which found him reassigned to the design department.

After his initial tenure was up, she had offered him a second internship, this time paid, independent of Columbia's programme. Bolstered by her words that he had a true, raw talent that she would love to help nurture, Kurt took her up on her offer and she became his mentor. Without regret, Kurt discontinued his participation in NYADA's courses and replaced them with graphic design ones that gave him the skills he sorely needed to do actual designing. He would upgrade his Fashion minor to a full blown major, and his eventual collection would receive the highest marks of his year.

Upon graduation, Isabelle would welcome him as a full-time employee who would gain a reputation as a fair but decisive critic as well as a recognised designer in his own rights. His designs would feature in many shows and he would come out with several lines, but there was one that he would always hold closest to his heart, his so called medical line. Kurt, at a significantly reduced cost, would sell custom designed slings, restrictors and hospital gowns to paediatric wards around the country, and eventually abroad. After all, Blaine's little embroidered designs had made the task of wearing slings easier for him and so he emulated it in the hopes that it would bring happiness to others in the same way.

His right arm would never fully recover. By his new therapist's summation he would, after five years, regain nearly seventy percent control over it, but the tremors and pains, though decreasing in frequency, would never fully go away. Although with effort he could use and control the limb, there would be a permanent weakness to it that would prevent him from ever holding or carrying anything heavy. More often than not, especially in public, he would still don a sling, not wanting anyone to be distracted away from himself and what he was capable of doing.

The most prominent exception to that fact would be on his wedding day, a few weeks after he had graduated with his undergraduate degree. They had been together for nearly ten years by then, engaged since Kurt had turned twenty one, but they had never found the need to rush into the actual ceremony. Even before they both finally signed their names onto the marriage certificate, they had been known fondly as Hummel-Anderson to all of their friends, and, the eventual progression into marriage seemed wholly natural, a change almost imperceptible.

Blaine had had to hold an irate husband back from strangling his brother and best man at the reception when Finn had, with a grin, said that he hoped that after that night that Kurt would finally lose his virginity. Kurt then turned from Finn to pummel his husband's chest, when Blaine, with a roguish grin, said, in a voice that had carried over the microphone, that that had been a state taken care of years before. Jeff standing and whooping had been the icing on the cake, and Kurt would forever groan and walk away whenever nieces and nephews and with time, their own children, sought answers to why Papa Kurt's face was such a startling state of red in the photo famed on the mantle place.


End file.
